Over the last few days, I've sadly, maddeningly watched the reports of innocent lives shattered by violence in Louisiana, Minnesota and last night in Dallas. This morning a reporter on CNN said somberly, "Five of Dallas' finest lost their lives...."; I've heard the same thing in the reportage of Alton Sterling's and Philando Castile's murders and the slaughter in Orlando; these people "lost their lives."
No one "lost"; anything. All these lives were TAKEN at the hands of people committing an act of aggression towards other people who were not in a position to reason their way out of danger. Their lives were not put into a set of hands that misplaced them, like, a set of keys hidden out of sight somewhere in your house.
“Honey, have you seen my life?” – “It’s where it always is, sweetheart. Unless someone took it.”
I know it may be just a matter of semantics to some. But to me it feels like the very last indignity – as if these men and women were careless with their most precious possession. No one “lost” anything but their ability to see the faces of those they love a minute or a life-time more.