I just saw a Facebook post. Something about a 7 year-old girl being murdered by a Fed Ex driver and some other fucking man. They abducted her and strangled her as “Jingle Bell Rock” played.
I had not heard of this.
I could not read the entire post. I made it to that part, and that’s it. But it was audio-recorded.
I don’t want to know any more. I don’t want to know anything anymore. I just died a lot more inside.
When this happens, we all die inside.
I didn’t want to see it. There was no content warning. It was just there.
Perhaps that’s as it should be; we need to face the evil that reality is. If we don’t, we’re no better than the dogs who did this.
How can you hide? Where can you hide?
Sticking your head in the sand will only multiply your sin of letting innocent children die. And make no mistake: I’m questioning the parents here; where the hell were they? When this happens, how does it happen?
Who was not doing their job? I tell people all the time, keep your children close. Don’t let them run ahead of you. Don’t let them out of your sight. It only takes an instant for them to disappear, and you never see them again. Then you have to live with the horrible emptiness that takes its place in your soul, takes their place in your soul, living every day, for the rest of your days, imagining what their last moments were like.
And now I’ve also said it to you.
Because you know by now my children were lost to me a long time ago.
And my grandchildren want nothing to do with me and the feeling is mutual. If one were to die, I couldn’t bear it.
I’m estranged by choice from my family.
Not just because they lied and said they tried to call when zero missed calls showed up on my phone.
It’s not just that.
It’s that if they die, I would die, too.
Plus, when I die, if God ever allows it, they won’t even know.
I choose never to feel that kind of pain again.
And you, what about you?
Because you have to guard your children at all times in this evil world full of sadistic people. Be closer to them. Make time for them, and most of all, have fun with them, letting them learn to trust you in everything you say and do. You don’t have to cage them; you just can’t let them walk to school, and I don’t give a damn what your schedule is, children come first or you’re no goddamn good. And you might one day come home from work to find the house empty, and still empty at nightfall, and even more empty after a sleepless night talking to the police, who can no more help you than the man in the moon.
I hope I just made you sick. I hope I scared the hell outta you.
If not, imagine being the parent who never sees their own children again. And I mean think about it.
Memoirs of an American Asshole 