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Akst: “It’s the end of the world as we know it …”

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I had been looking forward to this column for months.

Besides the numerically cool styling (122112), there’s the Mayan/end-of-the-world thing, the harmonic convergence thing, the fiscal cliff thing, AND I developed an angle to inform and delight.

I planned to reveal that while none of the above was enough for End Days, the cumulative effect of them might be, especially considering one fact about which Daily Chronicle readers were unaware:

My sister Janet’s birthday, today. I was gonna skewer Janet about how her sense of humor contributed to humanity’s demise as a birthday present.

Then, one week ago today, the world did end. The band R.E.M. got it right, but I don’t feel fine.
Not the actual end of the world, obviously, but I wonder if the actual end feels much worse than knowing more than two dozen people – most of them the same age as my smart, beautiful boy – died violently for no sane reason right before the holidays.

We got the news just before school pickup on Friday. My wife and I decided to take our son for a treat, whatever he wanted.

Parents in the car line knew. The woman ahead of us hugged her daughter so fiercely I feared the girl would be injured.

Not telling our son wasn’t an option. He saw flags at half staff, and he knows what that means. Better to hear it from us than … who knows?

We said as little as we could, but there were questions:

“Did he kill the whole school?”

“Were any of them kids?”

“Did the teachers try to stop him?”

“How many people died?”

And a comment: “I think it’s unfair that he lived a life and took their lives.”

Later Friday, we received a well written email from our son’s principal telling us the school’s disaster preparedness plan is current, reviewed by appropriate agencies, and rehearsed often. The email hit all the right notes, but it didn’t help.

I tear up unpredictably. I almost rear-ended somebody. I’m nauseous but can’t vomit. I want to sleep.

The fact that the gunman carried so much ammunition that it could’ve been much worse carries little comfort, and some reporters, I’m sorry to say, forgot their ethics training (and common sense) to ask little kids, “Were you scared?”

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