I don't know yet what anything means, but I have learned that the events in my life the last two weeks are far from unusual. Because I have been so open about what happened, almost everyone I speak with tells me of their own pain, their own loss, or their own fears for a loved one in some crisis.
All of us have these events. A brother 15 years into a losing battle with drug addiction, where every late night phone call may be the news. A sister that took her own life in college 25 years ago. A baby that died of SIDS who would now be a college freshman. On and on.
People get up every day and carry on. They are right here with us, walking past on the sidewalk, in our workplaces, our churches, our gun clubs, in our grocery store.
The symbol of the Catholic Church, of a crucified man raised into the sky, often leaves out a important part of that event. At the foot of that cross were three people, his mother, John the beloved, and a woman who loved him. They stood and grieved. They are the symbols of humanity.