My Dearest Child,
Yesterday, when you came home in tears after hearing a rumor on the bus, I felt compelled to comfort you. I wanted to assure you that the sixth grader who frightened you was merely being a bully—that there was no evil person lurking in schools causing harm. I yearned to dispel your fears, to convince you that villains are figments of fiction and that the world is fundamentally safe.
But the truth is, I would have been misleading you. I would have continued to weave comforting tales throughout your life if I could, telling you that an extra serving of broccoli would make you stronger, or that fairies reward cleanliness with treats, or that monsters exist only in stories—not anywhere near your bed, your closet, or certainly not in schools armed with guns.
As difficult as it is to accept, our time together is limited. One day, you will venture into a world where broccoli won’t matter, and fairies won’t exist. Until recently, individuals could purchase firearms with alarming ease.
So, I gazed into your tear-filled hazel eyes and chose to share the truth. Yes, there was indeed a bad person. Yes, they caused harm without reason. I held you tightly, allowing you to inhale deeply until your trembling subsided and your tears faded away.
Once your emotions settled, I pulled you onto my lap for one of our “serious conversations.” It was challenging to know where to begin. I could have mentioned tragic events like those at Columbine, Aurora, or Newtown. I could have discussed issues like gun control or mental health. I might have spoken of individuals whose perceptions of reality are distorted, much like the character Kai in your favorite story.
Each time I tried to start, I noticed the flush on your cheeks and the soft whimper escaping your lips. I couldn’t bear it. So, I shifted my approach, using the language you understand—good and bad, heroes and villains. I told you a story about a troubled person—someone who sought help repeatedly but was often turned away or misunderstood. This individual, appearing as a villain, waited in the shadows until the moment was right.
When that moment arrived, this sad figure unleashed violence, harming many. I paused and looked at you. Your wide, gleaming eyes showed no tears because it was just a story—a format you grasp well.
“What do you think happened next?” I asked.
“A hero came along!” you exclaimed.
I enveloped you in my arms, feeling your warm little heart racing. “Yes! There was a hero!” I responded enthusiastically.
I narrated the tale of a courageous young man who, after subduing the villain, tended to her injuries until law enforcement arrived to take her away. You wanted to see the illustrations, the well-crafted narrative spun by the author, rather than my patchy retelling. I explained that there were no images of this tale—only the shared memories among friends that have shaped many lives and lingered painfully in our minds.
You laughed, a bubbly giggle that brought me both comfort and sorrow. “That can’t be real, Mama. Nobody would nurse the bad guy’s wounds. The hero would just finish him off.” I smiled, for in that moment, reality surpassed your fairy tales. Real heroes exist, and my story was genuine.
I shared that many years ago, when I was a student at Penn State, such events transpired. The hero, Alex Thompson, saved some of my dearest friends by intervening and genuinely cared for the villain’s wounds until help arrived. I was fortunate enough to meet him and express my gratitude for his bravery.
I explained that the villain was more of a troubled individual than an outright evil character. However, I withheld her name, as we should never glorify villains by speaking their names.
We then discussed an incident in Roseburg, Oregon, and I told you about another hero, Jamie Rodriguez, who bravely confronted the villain, even after sustaining multiple injuries, all while facing the personal tragedy of his son’s birthday.
I wished to delve deeper into the complexities of good and evil, but your restlessness indicated you had absorbed all you could for now. After you left, I sat in silence, reflecting on the weight of memories and the uncertainties of the future.
As I made my way upstairs, I passed your room and saw you and your sister playing, your toys lined up in perfect order, the imagination of your games contrasting sharply with the chaos of reality. You were busy smashing dragons into knights and arranging soldiers in neat formations.
Remember, my son, the world is not as neat and tidy as it seems. Good and evil do not always fit into the clear categories you find in your games. Villains often stem from sadness or mental illness rather than pure malice. Dragons are merely oversized lizards, and castles can be swept away by the tide.
But heroes? Heroes are undeniably real.