The Flag Flies Low

“Mommy, why is the flag so low,” she asked from the backseat. We were on our way to daycare and it had been a harried morning. I was flustered and confused, and at first, I didn’t know what she was asking.

“The flag, mommy, the American flag on that building. It’s really low.”

Sure enough, the office building on the side of the road had an American flag hanging at half mast. I’m sad to say it took me a moment to figure out exactly why. And then I remembered Colorado.

I haven’t written about the tragedy here or on social media, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t affected me. I haven’t wanted to trivialize it with a half-assed tweet or Facebook prayer. I, like most people, have been to a midnight movie showing. I’m not a huge Batman fan (I could never really get into the first movie after Heath Ledger died…it was just too sad for me to watch), so I’ve never been to one of their openings, but I’ve been to a Harry Potter film or two where it was pitch dark outside and people were dressed up in costumes. What happened in Colorado could have easily happened at one of those premieres where I sat in the dark, wanting to be transported to another time.

Even though I was sad and angry, I decided not to write about it online. I didn’t click on links to news stories and I didn’t watch clips on cable channels. Mostly because I knew the facts and I didn’t want to watch it played out over and over and over until it became entertainment instead of horror. We have a strict rule against cable news in our home (I cannot imagine that vitriol being spewed out at my children every day. Yesterday at the gym the TV in front of me was tuned to Shepherd Smith who transitioned easily and sickeningly from the shooting in Colorado to the Penn State ruling to who was going to be judging the next season of American Idol. News? Really? Makes me sick. And this doesn’t just apply to Fox News, I’m a disliker of all the cable “news” channels, including MSNBC and CNN. Blech.) so there was not really a way for Lulu to learn about this horrible event.

But there it was. The flag. I didn’t want to lie to her. I couldn’t lie to her. So I told her the truth. I told her that when something sad happens in our country we fly the flag low as a sign of support. I told her something really sad had happened last week and people were hurt and killed.

“Mommy, people die sometimes. That’s part of life.”

“Yes, honey, but these people were innocent and were killed by a man who had a gun, so the country is sad.”

“Why did he kill them?”

“I don’t know. Nobody knows. Some people think he is sick in his brain and some people think he’s just a bad person, but we don’t know yet.”

“Where did he kill them?”

We talked about how it happened in Colorado and she asked if it was near her friends or family. I told her it was close, but they were okay. She was quiet for a minute.

“Mommy, sometimes when I hear sad things, I want to cry.”

“Me too, baby.”

And then she turned to her brother and started reading him a book. She didn’t mention Colorado again. I have no idea if I said the right thing or the wrong one. I have no idea what will stick with her and what she’ll forget.

I mean, how do you explain the unexplainable?