It's Christmas Eve.
A mother in Newtown Connecticut sits staring at the tree, undecorated.
She would have strung up the lights with her 5 year old daughter, just over a week before.
She never got the chance.
Her husband sits silently a few feet away on the couch.
He stares into the unlit fireplace, a thousand miles away.
An empty bottle of whiskey sits on the coffee table.
They don't speak, and won't for a long, long time.
They can't have any more kids, not that they would want anyone but their little girl.
And they can't have her either.
Innocent children, rest in paradise.
Since I'm unsure after this, if there is a God, dance through the skies by the Lord.