A friend reached out to me recently. She was struggling with a difficult question. She has a son who is a college freshman, hundreds of miles away from her, and a first grader. Her son, like mine, is the same age as the students who survived the Sandy Hook shooting. Her daughter is the same age as the students who died that day. 

I don’t know how to send my children into a world that is not safe for them, she said. 

Yes, I said. That is hard. 

She asked, How do we face the horrors of the world, while still living in it?

I sat for a moment, and absorbed the question—its enormity, its sincerity. Here’s what I said.

One of the things I know from working for so many years with victims of crime and others in trauma is that the thing that happened to them is rarely anything they predicted or worried about. They worried about school shootings, and not cancer. Or they worried about drunk driving, and not suicide. About environmental disasters and not interpersonal violence. 

We have so much less control than our anxious minds would like to believe. 

Of course, we must protect ourselves as best we can: don’t drink and drive, take care of your mental and physical health, lobby for legislation to make our world safer. In particular, use your anger or worry or frustration to fuel action that makes a change. 

And also, know that we cannot protect ourselves or the ones we love. 

(I hate that, by the way. I’m guessing you do, too.)

The second thing I have seen from those who have faced enormous loss is that they generally wish they hadn’t spent so much time worrying. Mostly, they wish they could have one more day with their loved one, just enjoying them. 

Danielle was a friend of mine in college. She was…so wonderful. Hilarious. Fun. Electric—her nickname was Sparky. She died of brain cancer a few days before her 28th birthday. God, what I wouldn’t give for one more day with her, laughing and dancing, being silly. When she was sick, I spent so much time trying to make everything right—the rides to treatments, the notes of appointments, the right food, the right care, the right visitors. 

What I remember most fondly now is dropping her off at home one night, after a dinner that was too tense because I wanted it to be so perfect for her. As we walked from the car, we began to sing together: “My Girl” by The Temptations. Decades later, that song still makes me smile. What a gift that moment was. 

I don’t wish now I had been more alert to the dangers she faced. I wish I had enjoyed my time with her more.  

And so, what I know, is that we can’t protect ourselves from bad things happening, or even guess what they might be. All we can do is love each other, and try our best to be present for the gifts of this day. Hold on, loosely. Be grateful for what we have in this moment—all the more precious because it is fleeting.