WE'VE HAD SNOW here for three days—not much, about four inches. But it froze overnight and that kept me at home. Today it's starting to melt so I ventured out and picked up my husband's death certificate.
There's a finality about seeing those words tied to Ray's name on that official state-sanctioned form. It's a relief in a way, an undisputed acknowledgement that there's nothing I can do now. No medicines, no words, no supplications can bring him back. He's gone and I'm still here and life goes on. I've a document that proves it.
And I'm glad to be alive this week to applaud the energy and determination and strength of the students from Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School. It's a marvel to me that these students, suffering profound shock and grief, have summoned the willingness and drive to confront this long-standing issue. My husband died peacefully at home. These children saw their best friends torn apart by the bullets of an AR-15. That they had the courage to stand up and say "no more" just hours after the event, well, I haven't the words for it.
We are living through a kind of crucible in this country. So much has happened that we never thought to see. But I rejoice in the power of so many resisting the onslaught of corruption and ignorance. People are standing up, fighting back, speaking out. And the year is young. We mustn't waste a minute of it.