Wow. Our nation has experienced quite a chaotic week.
It has been a whirlwind of a week. The authorities released pictures of last Monday's Boston Marathon bombing suspects last Thursday afternoon to the public. In a span of about 24 hours there was a hold-up at a convenience store, another murder, a shootout resulting in the death of suspect #1, and a massive manhunt for supect #2. A whole major metropolitan area was on lock down. It all concluded with another shootout and the capture of 19 year old Dzhokhar Tsarnaev- alive.
The events of the Boston Marathon bombings have burrowed deep into my heart. Tragedies such as this
really get to me. I know they affect everyone, but when these unthinkable events happen (Aurora, Virginia Tech, Sandy Hook, etc.) I go into a very dark place and am convinced that evil has won and that we are no longer safe anywhere. I feel much more grief and terror than what I think is normal for people. And if you involve a child in this tragedy, well I pretty much lose it. Seeing sweet, innocent Martin Richard's face broke my heart. Whenever they show a child victim's photo I immediately see my own son's face and a flood of heartache sets in.
I was glued to the TV on Friday. It felt like I was watching a movie, but I had that punched-in-the-gut feeling knowing it was all real and that there were real people and victims involved. The media outlets kept showing Dzhokhar's face over and over and over and over again.
I saw what everyone else saw. A monster. A murderer. A person who ruined people's lives. A person who tainted a joyous athletic occasion.
But after seeing his face over and over my motherly instincts kept creeping in, even though I desperately kept trying to push them away. I kept thinking about how young he looked. Just a punk kid fresh out into the world.
A kid... just a kid. This monster who just took the life of an 8 year old little boy was once 8 years old himself. From what I understand Dzhokhar was just about 7 or 8 years old when he and his family sought asylum in the United States.
Reflecting on this tragedy makes me think of the many tragedies that have plagued our country in these last years. These monsters shown below, these instruments of evil, used to be innocent little children.
Did James Holmes run around and play Power Rangers and Ninja Turtles with his friends when he was younger? Did Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold jump for joy when they got that Super Nintendo for Christmas? These monsters were once kids who had the same dreams and hopes as we did when we were younger. They played the same games and read the same books as we did.
Each of these murders had mothers. Since I have become a mom my thoughts often drift to the mothers of these killers. How awful it must be... your own son, your flesh and blood, the babe you carried for 9 months, birthed, and comforted is a murderer. The one you rocked to sleep and whispered lullabies to... is a monster. The toddler you watched make block towers, who amazed you with their first sentences and songs, who colored big scribble pictures with crayons... is a terrorist. The child who fell down and scraped their knee and you swept them up in your arms and kissed their tears away... has taken life.
We mothers of sons want our boys to grow into strong men. Into kind-hearted gentlemen who are leaders and protectors. We want them to be happy and successful in what they choose to do with their adult lives. We want them to take their God-given talents and do good things. We watch them as they grow up right before our eyes and pray we lead them on the right path. We don't picture our sons being murderers.
I can't pretend to know how it feels to have a son who has killed others. I can only imagine the horror and grief. You have lost your son either to him deciding to take his own life at the end of his massacre or to the prison system. You mourn the loss of your child at the same time being sickened that they have taken so many other innocent lives. Can you imagine the thoughts, regrets and images Sue Klebold, Dylan Klebold's mother must go through? After many years of silence she opened up about that fateful day.
In remembering that day in April, Sue Klebold explains the agonizing
decision she had to make when she realized her son was one of the
shooters. "I thought that if this was really happening and he survived,
he would go into the criminal justice system and be executed, and I
really couldn't bear to lose him twice. I gave the hardest prayer I ever
made, that he would kill himself, because then at least I would know he
wanted to die and wouldn't be left with all the questions I'd have if
he got caught by a police bullet. Maybe I was right, but I've spent so
many hours regretting that prayer: I wished for my son to kill himself
and he did."
"I had a sudden vision of what he might be doing. And so while every
other mother in Littleton was praying that her child was safe, I had to
pray that mine would die before he hurt anyone else."
When asked what she would say to her son if she could speak to him she said this:
"I would ask him to forgive me, for being his mother and never knowing
what was going on inside his head, for not being able to help him, for
not being the person he could confide in."
That sentence just breaks my heart. To feel like you failed your son, and in doing so failed so many other parents and children, those lives your son took.... I just cannot imagine. No one really wants to think about or sympathize with the murderer's family. Many want to place the blame on the family. Sometimes that's the case, many times it is not.
That brings me to the big question that has lingered in my head these past few days.
At what point does the little innocent boy become a murderer? What causes such hatred and evil? We know some clues... mental illness, bullying, rage against authority, tough childhoods, family influences. But what causes it all to become so big and so burdensome that these boys lash out and take lives? Surely these kids don't dream of becoming killers. It just boggles my mind and I so desperately want to make sense out of it all. But you can't place evil into a nicely explained package.
I know these questions can't easily be answered. I'm no psychologist and I don't think even some psychologists can answer these questions. I have read up on some of these boys and quite frankly the way they think is bone-chilling and gives me nightmares. It's hard to imagine that these monsters were once little babies.
I've often thought about if any of these killers had any remorse, but the fact that they have behaved in such an evil way makes it difficult to pin any human sorrow on them. However, after Dzhokhar was captured and we learned that he spent all day hiding in a boat makes me stop to think about how, as a son and brother, these killers must think. Dzhokhar hid away like a scared little boy. He didn't have any bombs to go out in a blaze of glory. He had a gun, which he used to exchange gunfire with authorities, but why didn't he take his own life? He was injured from the shootout hours earlier that took the life of his brother. There was no getting out of this, so why didn't he take the coward's way out and end his life? (I am not saying he should have killed himself, just expressing my surprise since that seems to be the path many of these terrorist choose.) When the police were closing in why didn't he kill their hopes of getting him alive so they could get information out of him? I'm not trying to paint him as a remorseful person because judging by his alleged behavior right after the bombings he was not sorry since he went about daily life as if nothing had happened. But it makes me wonder how much of an influence his brother had on him and how much information he will give authorities.
What did Dzhokhar think about in that boat? Did he think about his brother? Surely as kids they wrestled around and played with Legos and G.I. Joes. Did he know that his brother was dead? Did he think about his mother and father? Did he think about the tears his family was going to shed because he and his brother were terrorists and killed and injured so many innocent people? Did he think of his friends who he used to hang out with? Did he think of his brother's wife and his 3 year old niece? Did he think about all the dreams he had as a little kid? Being free from the war and terrors of where he was born and living the American dream... becoming happy and successful. Possibly raising a family? Did he think of his victims? Surely he saw the pictures of Martin Richard, Krystle Cambell and Lingzi Lu before he and his brother went on the run. Did he think of how their lives were cut short and how their families' lives would never be the same? Did he realize that no matter what happened to him that his own life would be cut short, whether by dying in a boat or being imprisoned? Did he feel remorse that he had a choice in his future but his victims did not? All that he had was over now. Happy childhood memories... hugs from his mother, laughs with his brother, going to school, playing with friends, listening to music... all led to this moment. A terrorist cowering in a boat waiting for his life to end.
When the authorities closed in on him and after one brief volley of gunfire he just laid there. He showed his hands, lifted his shirt to show he was not wearing a suicide vest and just waited to be taken in. Was he ready to cooperate with officials? Does he regret his actions? Does he wish he could take that moment away when he went from innocent to monster?
The information coming in about the Tsarnaev brothers is coming in fast and full of stories about their rather bizarre family, their tribal and religious views, their past and possible motives for the bombings. There are so many unanswered questions.
It's disheartening to know that there is probably no end to these tragedies. We are all capable of evil and too many of us act on it. I am terrified of letting my kids out into the world knowing they could encounter a monster like Seung-Hui Cho or Timothy McVeigh. I watch my sons play together. I watch Joe build Lego houses and Sam gain more and more confidence to pull himself up. I know these years will fly by and soon they will be adults. I just pray that I have taught them to always love, even when hating is easier. I pray that I have taught them to be brave- to run into the smoke to rescue those who need help instead of running away. I pray I have taught them to be strong when life hands them difficulties. I pray that they glorify God in all they do and show others the goodness and beauty in life. I pray they become good men.
I pray that my sons, these happy, innocent faces, will make this world a better place.
