A/N: I did not write this to receive reviews. I wrote this as a means to 'make some sense' out of another such tragedy and to remind ourselves there are others still grieving from before. Each candle that is lit brings light, but it reminds us that too many lives have been lost this past year to shootings that could have been prevented.
I have removed those reviews that were abusive and used language that is uncalled for. It may be their opinion, but I will not accept reviews or comments with vulgar language. I am writing these Candle stories for the victims and their families. Not to glorify the shooter. That's already been done with within the media. The attention should be put on the victims and the fact that the families are grieving. We have lost so much decency in this world. So, please read these with the intent that they were meant to be taken in, to light a candle and to grieve for those who cannot.
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More Candles
by
AJ
"Bruce, does it seem to you that we've been lighting a lot of these candles lately?"
"Yes, Dick it does. Too many in fact."
'I can handle the likes of Joker and Penguin, but this . . . This is just senseless."
"Life is often filled with events and tragedy that makes no sense. All we can do is be there for those who are in pain and help them through it."
'You're right."
Dick Grayson pulled out another candle and lit it. Each candle represented a life that was lost, cut short before that life had even gotten started. As he lit each candle, Dick said a silent prayer to the families that were left behind, the Mothers, the Fathers, the Brothers, and Sisters, the Fellow Students and Teachers and Co-Workers.
Once he was done he could feel Bruce's hand on his shoulder.
"That looks real nice Dick."
"I wish I didn't have to light these candles," Dick said when a single tear slipped down his cheek. "It's not fair. They won't be able to celebrate Christmas with their families. These candles should be lit in celebration, not . . ."
Bruce gave his grieving ward a squeeze. "There are many more who are grieving and many more who cannot. They are numb inside, in shock. Please, do not be ashamed to grieve for those who cannot. I am proud of you for doing this."
"I guess someone had to do it. They weren't just kids, they were people. They were someone's son or daughter. Mother, Father, Wife, Husband. Now . . . in a few months time, they will be nothing but a statistic, just like the people that were shot in July. Why can't we learn from this?"
"To learn from it, we have to make sense of it. And sometimes there just isn't any sense at all. All we can do is mourn.