On providing a shelter

I didn't tell my children what happened in Newtown.  I hid that. I bore it by myself.  How could I ask them to carry the weight of the knowledge that those atrocities had happened to people their age, the ages of their friends.  How could I ask them to reconcile their idealistic views with the reality of the fallen and broken world around them?  I wanted them to live in a world where schools are safe, and evil exists only in fairy tales (and even then, good always triumphs) for a just a little bit longer.
But the truth is, they don't live in that world.  I wondered if I was doing them a disservice by shielding them.  And I realized last night, that they would go to school, and hear about the tragedies.  And I wanted to be the first one to squeeze them and tell them it would be ok.  I needed to be there for them when they found out.  So I quietly told them.  And my son's eyes welled up, but he didn't let them spill.  And my daughter said "Who would do such a thing?" and I didn't have an answer.  I could only hold them tight and tell them I love them.