LETTERS FROM KRAMPUS: the Second Letter to Deondra

Dear Deondra,

It’s very kind of you to ask after my health post-Krampusnacht; I don’t get many inquiries like that. I’ll simply say thanks and add that not enough ibuprofen exists immediately following a thing like that.

The aftermath of things is something we should talk more about.

I think we could all take turns being proclaimed heroes because we help each other survive one day to the next - running the gauntlet from deep and abiding joy to nightmares beyond comprehension. I do know that we cannot see all of something from the inside of it, so we need to be careful when we judge ourselves to have fallen short in some irreversible way and conclude that we do not deserve to be here at all.

It was not a mistake to run when the shooting began, Deondra; it was not a mistake to instinctively save your own life when other lives were lost. That you have asked me to sack you this year because you didn’t stop to help is something we call “survivor’s guilt” and it’s not a sackable offense. I’m glad you’re still here and I’m glad you reached out.

You might remember and learn more over time. I’ve heard that some of the other children got so confused that all they could do was follow your bright yellow sweater to the side door of the church as you ran (and that got them out of harm’s way). What is the definition of “hero” in that moment? You were there and, to them, you were a light in that darkness.

How some lights continue to shine while others appear to go out is beyond our control, but the thing about light is … it travels, Deondra. Light travels at a speed we cannot match or beat in our physical form. Maybe you’re thinking of Mel Ray because he just breezed by when you blinked. Maybe the tree lights started flickering because Bettina is sitting on one of the strings. (Who can say that the toaster didn’t short because Joel licked the socket; that kid’s a freak.)

Do me a favor and tell your Mom about how you’re feeling; don’t keep it to yourself. Let her help you. And know that your friends are still your friends. Light calls to light across the deepest parts of space and time, so they’ll stay in the mix (even if it’s different than before). We don’t have to understand to let things be okay enough for now.

I’ll be thinking of you this Christmas. Enjoy having cute hair in all of your holiday photos; sack hair is the worst.

Your friend,

Krampus