Even though the thick morning fog eventually lifted, a dark ominous cloud continued to hang over our community as 2025 came to an end. The last days of December found the town in which I live trying to process the tragic news of a what appeared to be a triple-murder-suicide close to home. According to local law enforcement, a mother, her special-needs son and a daughter-in-law were robbed of life at the hand of a family member who then took his own life.

The shock of such a horrific act took our communal breath away. Those who knew Danielle Cuvillier and her special-needs son were stunned as the facts became known. My wife and I would often see Nick (a high school classmate of our youngest daughter) and his mom walking in Pioneer Park with their dogs.

Even though Nick was mostly non-verbal, his signature smile communicated his love of life. Neighbors and friends would hide tiny plastic figures, hot wheel cars and other small toys in the park for Nick to discover. His joy in going on a treasure hunt and find the hidden prizes was a gift in itself. The pure innocence and upbeat countenance of this one born with Angelman disorder was obvious. It was what drew people to him.

As I drove by the family home a few days after the news broke, I was touched by the makeshift memorial in front of the family home. A colorful array of floral arrangements, a hot wheels car and a simple wooden cross called to mind our community’s love, grief and unity. The beautiful memorial stood in stark contrast to the ugly crime scene marked off by yellow tape a few yards away.

A week after the tragedy came to light, a vigil took place in Pioneer Park where Danielle and Nick frequently walked. Those who knew the eighty-year-old artist and her family organized the event. They were joined by others who’d read about the horrific events in our otherwise quiet community. The pelting rain seemed to symbolize Heaven’s grief as I joined a couple hundred Mercer Islanders silently walking the trails of the park.

We held lit candles as we walked But the challenge of keeping the wax sticks aflame in the rain was comparable to the challenge trying to understand why such a brutal crime had taken place. All the same, it was a beautiful expression of compassion and sorrow. This public demonstration of solidarity also captured the unity of our community. And that was noteworthy.

Experiencing the oneness as we walked through Pioneer Park brought back memories of another tragedy a year ago. When the three young Decker sisters from my hometown were found murdered in a campground near Leavenworth last year, I followed the news. What I observed in the media coming out of Wenatchee was the same kind of communal unity I experienced at our park vigil. A community in shock held each other with empathetic arms.

Those two tragedies reminded me of how our nation came together in the days following the terrorist attacks of 9/11 a quarter century ago. We felt a similar sense of unity when various communities across our nation came together as one. Spontaneous rallies and prayer gatherings found us voicing our patriotism and faith. Putting religious and political affiliations aside, we joined hands and hearts in acknowledging our dependence on God and on each other.

When blindsided by unexpected tragedies that impact a community or a nation, we recognize that we are individual members of a larger whole. In times like these we focus on the fact that we are a family. We also focus on our awareness of a God who redeems tragic circumstances by infusing suffering with meaning and intersecting death with the promise of life.

That little cross deposited at the makeshift memorial not far from where I live speaks volumes. It symbolizes how a minus sign of a flawed and fractured humanity can be transformed into a plus sign by the transcendent grace of sovereign God. A plus sign always conveys the reality that there is more to come.

Guest columnist Greg Asimakoupoulos is a former chaplain at Covenant Living at the Shores in Mercer Island.