I was born in 1977. I say that not for your sympathy (Paul VI was pope) but rather for context. My parents told me from my childhood about the day JFK was murdered. I always remember feeling a sense of wonder that they knew every detail of where they were and what they were doing the moment they heard the news. My mom, a young houswive of 26 with four children and a fifth on the way, was ironing and watching As the World Turns. My dad, a young father and budding actuary, was at work and when everyone closed up shop upon hearing the news, he took the bus home from downtown, came in the door, and watched the news with my mom after praying for our Catholic president. It was a simpler time that had changed overnight.
I understood more and more of that moment during my own lifetime at various events. I came to remember exactly where I was when The Priceis Right was interrupted to bring us news of the Challenger explosion. Later on it was the fall of the Wall, Princess Diana and then JFK JR and then…
I will never forget every moment of September 11, 2001.
These were defining moments. And they were life changing and world changing moments. And they were moments that took time to process before, in many cases, we came to realize how much deeper the stories actually went.
I remember where I was when Trump got shot.
And earlier today, for no reason at all and probably for every reason I fear, I immediately knew I would remember this.
I had just crossed the Delaware Memorial Bridge in the rain. I was heading north on the Jersey Turnpike on my way to my youngest sister’s birthday party and then on to shoot a mini-documentary about 9/11 in the City. My nephew texted me and the system in my rental car read it to me.
“Dude Charlie Kirk was shot.”
Robotic voice. Chilling message.
I did what I shouldn’t. I glanced down at the phone. I saw a picture and immediately texted back, “Looks like he was shot in the neck!” I knew this wasn’t good.
I texted one of my parish priests to tell him the news. He expressed shock.
I remember just an hour later. I had turned on Megyn Kelly’s livestream with the emotionally blessed Glenn Beck. I listened as one of the most heartbreaking scenes I’ve ever heard played out. These two people who were his friends announced his death at 31.
And I cried a little too because I felt their sorrow and I thought of two young children growing up without a father. And that is always sad.
I did not always agree with Charlie Kirk. In fact just a month ago I wrote a post that was seen widely where I criticized him for his proud claims of being a Calvinist while talking with Tucker Carlson.
But I can feel sorrow for him in this moment.
He was a robust, young guy in the prime of his life. Apparently well liked by all who knew him, he had talent and promise. He was cut down.
I thought of my soul. I went to confession two days ago and I’m glad I did.
Do likewise. We never know when we will be called to judgment.
And I thought of where this will lead.
It cannot be as simple as one man’s assassination because I don’t think it ever is. I watched that awful video. All I could think was, “That looked just like a CIA kill shot.” Can’t imagine why they’d want him dead but nothing is certain anymore.
And that brought me back to what I said above about confession.
May God grant him rest. May God grant us peace.
Earlier today I posted that I don’t know what to say or think anymore
I still don’t.
But I’ll never forget this day.
Harvey Millican's Blog: Musings of a Trad Dad 