I received the news late Sunday evening. I did not cry. No tears were forthcoming. I only breathed. And then I rooted my face in my pillow like an animal.
The feelings were all working away inside, like a pressure cooker, but I didn't have either the words or the spiritual strength to express them. I was empty, in shock, detached. I wanted to howl and howl and howl. I needed to cry, shriek, mourn the senseless loss of innocent lives, but I didn't, I couldn't. Initially these feelings simmered away, waiting to release themselves through normal expression, until, thwarted, they eventually boiled over, resulting in anger and confusion.
