If blood, even dried, squicks you out or makes you feel sick, consider this your warning. I don’t think the photo is that graphic, but I’m not you.
Today is not a pleasant day if you’re a lover of American history or even someone with the ability to look at the calendar and recognize that something happened on this day, something very awful, many years ago. My parents were in 8th grade on November 22, 1963, and they remember everything about that day and the days that followed just as clearly as though it happened yesterday, not 54 years ago. The prompt today got me thinking about something I once heard someone say about the Kennedy assassination, that it was a “mercy” Jack didn’t suffer for very long after he was shot…but then I look at that image, of where his wife was sitting, how she was covered in his blood and his brain matter and bits of his skull, and I ask myself — was it really a mercy? Was anything about this remotely merciful? In between the shot that hit him in the upper back and exited his throat and the shot that hit him in the back of the head, it was only a few seconds, but he was still aware in those seconds that he was going to die. Was the fact that it was only a few seconds indicative of mercy? How much terror or confusion can you feel in only a few seconds?
No, there was no mercy here. Just hatred. Violence. Murder. May we never see a day like it again.