But there was nothing. Just the house. Just a regular house with nothing to show to anyone who didn't know what kind of tragedy took place there.
But, really, why would there have been anything? The police already arrested the guy. People still need to live in that house. Life goes on.
It was never so obvious to me as right then. Life goes on, and the world keeps turning and spinning in space, and time passes, no matter how much it feels like it shouldn't. Everything felt like it had stopped when Anthony died, but it hadn't, and things felt like they should have slowed and crawled along when Jamie-Lynn was killed, but they didn't.
Time passes, and people continue on much like they did before, especially the ones who didn't know the people who died, or people who knew the people. And it seems callous and hard and cold and unfeeling, but that's how life is.
As they say in Buddhism, life is suffering.
But... the suffering isn't so bad when you have people to share it with, and maybe sometimes you can even forget that you're supposed to be suffering when you have friends around.
And maybe... just maybe... life isn't suffering at all.