“There’s a grief that can’t be spoken. There’s a pain goes on and on.” No truer words were spoken with the loss of a child. Or sung. (Empty Chairs at Empty Tables, Les Miserables).
When my birthday rolled around this year on November 22, I was reminded again of the significance of that day in history. It was on my fourth birthday in 1963 that President John F. Kennedy was assassinated, and I remember it well.
I hadn’t heard the word “assassinate” before that day. The sorrow that gripped my family also gripped the nation. I didn’t like it. I wanted it to go away. But every day the television was awash in news stories as the nation prepared to bury our president.
Four days in history. Four days in mourning. Four days that shook our nation and the world, now commemorated 50 years ago.
My birthday link to the Kennedys left me with a fascination for this public family. I collected books and commemorative magazines over the years. The grief of the nation and the grief of the Kennedy family didn’t end with…
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Making Me Bold 