When I heard of the attacks in Paris, my heart broke. Is this what the civilized world had come to? Yet junior seemed unmoved.

While watching the CBC, tears streaming down my face, I worried about my friends, my friend’s friends, my family in DK, my family in Italy. Where would the cowardly acts of stupidity stop?

Junior says, “It’s not happening here, it’s not happening to people I know. I’ll save my tears for then, otherwise I’ll run out of tears.” I understand that. He’s watched me cry for almost a decade but I haven’t run out yet.

Lost that loving feeling?

I was shocked at his lack of feeling for his fellow mankind. It may well have been a type self-preservation which I clearly don’t have.   Yet I told him that we knew people in Paris, our friend had people in Paris. We very well may be touched by such cowardly violence. We may very well be touched by such cowardly violence yet in Canada.

Again, junior was unmoved. Here was a boy that spent his days killing aliens and other beings in

computer games, despite my protestations. Had he become so desensitized that he no longer felt the horror of 120 plus people losing their lives at the hands of a group of pathetic cowards?

Or perhaps it’s his way of dealing with a world that appears to be so bent on destruction that he’s compartmentalized the areas he truly needs to feel about.

Overly Emotionally Me

For those of you who know me, I experience my emotions big and they usually involve tears, either of joy or sadness. I’ve tried to quell the flow but as I get older I see little reason to do so.

When Agent R died, I wept and wept for the loss of my friend but also for the loss of her joy and laughter that were now gone from my life.

How is it that my son has grown so heartless? Is it because the heartless wasband’s blood runs through his veins? Perhaps. Is it a way of self-preserving his tough exterior, clearly which is mom doesn’t have? Perhaps.

It Could have Been Us

All I can think of are the people who went to a soccer game or met their friends for dinner or met their friends at the theatre – some of which are now dead. All because of a group of cowards.

What if I had gone out to dinner tonight and some coward had chosen the restaurant I was in to make a cowardly political statement? My son would be an orphan tonight.

Perhaps it’s because of his youth he doesn’t think the consequences all the way through.

But that’s not true.

He Does Understand the Consequences

When he was little, the fire department came to the elementary school to inform the children about fires and how to get out in case of one. I remember junior crying because he didn’t know how he was going to save everybody. “What about blue bunny, what about Willy? How am I going to get them out?” This was when he was 7.

Later when he was 8, he was given an earthquake preparedness session. He came home, again, all upset. “How am I going to save blue bunny, how will I make sure grandma and grandpa are alright. How will I make sure Willy is safe?” Other kids just registered that they needed to get under the bed. My son had the “gift” of following the process to the end. The end meant making sure his entire family was safe and intact.

Still Puzzled

That’s why his reaction to the murders in Paris is so shocking to me. Perhaps it’s just a teenage bravado front. I hope so. I’d hate to think that my sensitive, caring son has become so hardened to acts of terror that he can no longer feel. Is his playing shooting games making him heartless, that the events unfolding on my TV screen are just another version of a computer game?

I hope not. But his disdain for my tears is worrisome. I sincerely hope that it’s just a teenage reaction to an emotionally expressive mom.

Let’s hope.