My Open Letter to the Families in Florida:

Time stops.
Your breathing stops.
If it wasn't for the view of people moving around you, you'd be certain the earth stopped too.
...

They were here.
You were talking to them.
You hugged them and made plans for later.
And now...they're not.

The sound of someone leaving your life so unexpectedly is absolute silence.
Silence from the people trying to comfort you while you can't stop screaming in your head.
They assure you it just takes time.

Time you don't want.
Time to think...about how everything is just wrong now, without the one who is gone.
Time to...just be.

It does happen, in a small, unexpected moment.
When you're holding something of theirs and the flicker of a happy memory tugs the corners of your mouth upward.
The way they laughed.
A line from their favorite movie they quoted all the time.
How excited they were to receive a particular gift.

A picture.
A smile.
A hug in a frame.
Joy and love from a much better day.

Someone tells a story about their hopes and dreams.
Reminds you of what direction they were heading.
How they loved and supported you too.
And you don't want to let them down.

You have more purpose now.
You need to do it for them.
Reach your goals and dreams since they can't.
Let them live on through you.

Time will help.
Love will help.
Remembering the joy they brought to the world and passing it on.
It will help.

We mourn with you.
We love with you.
We pray with you.
And most of all, we live with you knowing times will be hard, but they will soften.

With All Our Hearts,
The Rest of America