(I tried to post this at Penn Live as well)
Reading and hearing the responses of people who want to preserve the statue of Joe Paterno, I took note that some have evoked the horrible tragedy at Aurora, Colorado, saying in one manner or another, that at least Sandusky’s victims are alive, and have their lives ahead of them. That at least they can ‘move on’ with their lives.
To compare the horror of that took place in Colorado with the horror in Pennsylvania, it should be noted that there are strikingly painful parallels. Survivors of sexual abuse scarred for life with nightmares and terrors and other sad and painful reminders. The survivors of the massacre will be also be repeatedly reminded. A parent looking at an empty chair in their dining room. A child listening for a car that will never pull into the driveway again. A girl wondering what it would have been like to be escorted down an aisle or a young man who holds a ring returned to him by his girlfriend's father.
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is like an evil twin to a Kodak moment; the gift that keeps on giving. Events such as what happened in Colorado are horrible for the loss of life, of course, but even worse because of the depth of loss survivors and the families of those killed feel at the realization that things will never be the same.
It’s not about comparisons and it’s not a fucking competition to see who was hurt the most. The two are tied together by the same evil cords; loss of innocence and the addition of misplaced guilt and shame. And the absolute feeling of helplessness! The man who may never be able to watch a movie again without thinking about his wife dying in his arms. The mother who cannot stop crying each time the front door opens and it’s a friend instead of her little boy. The girl who will never be able to be held by a boy without shuddering violently or the man who will never be able to sleep without crying into his pillow. The girl who cannot establish lasting relationships or the boy who vomits at the smell of his father's aftershave!
Watching the young mother on TV last night still shaking and crying hysterically while remembering her fear that she would be unable to protect her little kids reminded me of how I felt at eight when I realized I couldn’t protect my ten year old sister as we were raped repeatedly by my uncle. The anger the young man feels, not at the shooter, but himself instead; believing that somehow he should have moved quicker. The mother who wonders how to deal with her failure to say no to her son or daughter, sending them to watch a movie…what harm could there have been?
I’m doing better. I have a great therapist and a wonderful family. But last night I woke up crying over some dim and hazy horror that I can’t even explain. And that memory goes back fifty years or more. How much harder for the little boy who has only just learned that his mother was killed in an attack such as what took place…no…an attack committed by an evil man. How much harder for a young man who still cannot go to sleep without being repulsed by the taste of semen in his mouth. The feelings of helplessness of the boy who is nearly thirty or the girl who is almost forty when the sound of a creaking door wakes them.
It’s not about what’s worse; it’s about them both being absolutely devastating inflictions of evil and the loss of innocence for all of them. I’m not asking for any symbol to be removed; only for those who feel the need to protect that symbol to understand why those who do wish it removed feel the way they do. Because Aurora, Colorado and State College, Pennsylvania have much more in common than you might see at first glance.
