The events of this past week rush through my mind almost as though I was remembering a movie that I saw once, or like I was remembering a dream, one where you were watching yourself from some vantage point that wasn’t your body. I remember where I was when I first turned on the TV and saw the news of the Marathon bombings, and how at first, sitting home alone, I thought it must have been a mistake.
When it finally hit me that this was, in fact, real, it was like all the air had been pulled from the room.
I choked on my own breath, eventually sobbing and fumbling for my phone, dropping it frantically a number of times before finally being able to get my hands to work the screen. I’ve never felt so helpless in my entire life.
As the next few minutes turned to hours and the hours to days, I couldn’t believe how much things stayed the same. Things exploded; the birds outside were still chirping. Boylston Street was stained with blood; someone was at the coffee shop up the street ordering a latte. I would sling drinks and dollar burgers Monday night until 2 a.m. just like every Monday, but people had died, and all night I held back tears.
In the midst of tragedy, life does not stand still to cope.
People put one foot in front of the other and time continues to tick by just as it did before.
As we all know now, this has finally come to an end. Our city stood together and stayed Boston Strong, justice prevailed over the evil people who simply wanted to hurt others, and we can finally begin to heal and not be afraid anymore.
The wonderful thing that comes from something as terrible as this is almost everything.
The tears we all cried watching the National Anthem sung by the whole crowd at the Bruins game. The way other cities came together to show their support, singing Sweet Caroline in baseball stadiums all over the country, and even the New York Yankees proudly displaying a Boston “B”—we were never alone in this.
finally allowing myself to exhale and feel safe in my own city again knowing that the people behind this were behind bars.
It was a touching ceremony, a video played up on the big screen and the whole crowd stood in stunned silence, honoring the fallen and the injured. The Boston and Watertown Police were honored on the field along with the FBI and some Marathon runners and volunteers.
There wasn’t a dry eye in the house, and before long, everyone was on their feet cheering and applauding. Before the start of the game, Big Papi took the microphone and spoke:
“This is OUR fucking city,” he said, and the crowd went WILD.
This IS our fucking city, and I have never been more proud to call Boston home. We are in good hands, we have our city back, and together we really, truly are Boston Strong.
— BarHavoc (@BarHavoc) April 20, 2013