Wednesday, February 22, 2017



Sue Dales closes her eyes at night, hoping against
hope that she will see her daughter in her dreams
just one more time; that she will hear Angie’s voice.
But try as she might, all she sees is blackness, there
is only silence. Danny Dales holds out his hand to
touch his daughter, but there is only cold and the
tears run down his face. Rebecca Cariens waits for her
mother’s embrace, but there is only emptiness. The
lights in our souls have been dimmed, but we will not
let them go out.

Every man knows that when your first child is born
you have a feeling of exhilaration; you feel you can do
anything and everything. You feel nothing is beyond
you. If you are not invincible, this child has brought
you close to that point; the child has given you the
true meaning of life. Then a January 16, 2002 pulls
everything out from under you—you come crashing
down to earth and hurt in ways you never thought

Danny Dales’ words on the day of Angie’s funeral will
always haunt me, because I think his words capture
what every father has thought to himself at one time
or another, “My whole life I thought I could fix
anything. No matter what was wrong, what was
broken, I could fix it. Now I feel so helpless. There is
nothing I can do. I can’t fix this. (I next turn my
attention to the Virginia Tech massacre.)

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