Years ago I dated a wonderful woman. She was so full of life and love. I just loved being around her. I have a quirky sense of humor and she does too. We made each other laugh and laugh over things that others found puzzling.
She was bright and insightful and I loved her. We broke up for some reason. I can’t remember why. I only remember the times we had together.
I saw her recently. She didn’t remember me.
She eventually married someone else who believed in protecting the house and home with a powerful handgun. One night, she heard a strange sound coming from the kitchen downstairs. She went down to check it out. He got out the handgun.
She came back upstairs. He believed there was actually an intruder and fired two rounds. One of the rounds hit her in the head. There was no intruder.
After heroic medical efforts, her life was saved, but many of her memories were lost. She was able to go back to work, but with some diminished capacity. She forgave her husband and they are still married. They no longer own guns.
The statistics about guns are stunning. There are so many thousands of tragedies in which people suffered great loses. I know that others have lost much more than I have.
We didn’t always scare as easily as we do now. We were not always so filled with fear and hatred about an array of potential dangers. We never needed the kind of firepower that we have stashed away. I suppose I should not be amazed at how much pain we have endured because of guns, but I am.
And I am so glad that my former girlfriend is alive and happy. But I’m sad that she doesn’t remember what we had. There are no statistics for that.