There is really nothing to say anymore.
Two more dead bodies. Two more families crying. Friends mourning. Bodies buried. Soon to be nothing more than a statistic to most people.
Sympathies sent. So sorry. Nothing to be done. Could have happened to anyone. But it didn’t. It happened to you.
Your family just won the deadly national lottery this time. No money. Just pain to carry with you forever. Empty chair at holidays. A dinner plate left in the cupboard.
If this were a warzone, you’d get a state burial and flag, but it’s the greatest country on Earth, so you get nothing. Unless one of your neighbors brings you a casserole.
Don’t politicize it.
Don’t blame the gun.
I don’t. I blame the apologists. I blame the co-conspirators. I blame the accomplices that made it so easy for angry young men and women to arm themselves with the engine of death. Death dealing is profitable, so the cycle goes on.
A lottery with no winners, but the ones that profit from human misery.
Nothing more to say.
God damn it all.