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They didn't know
By Melissa Martin
They didn’t know. That tragic day would be their last day alive. They
woke-up and went about their usual morning routine. Coffee, shower,
breakfast. Feed the kids. Feed the dog. Kiss the spouse good-by. Drive
to work.
They didn’t know. The Virginia Beach mass shooting left 12 people
dead—innocent human beings that died unexpectedly. Photographs of the
12 victims can be found on various news websites. The 12 people had
family, friends, and relationships. They had daily lives. Four people
were wounded. Four lives forever changed. Survivors.
They didn’t know. Trauma. Tragedy. How can the human mind process such
a horror? Shock. So surreal. How much can a human heart bare?
They didn’t know. Eleven of the victims were city employees. Another
was a contractor seeking a permit at the municipal center. Devastation.
Disaster.
They didn’t know. A deranged employee. A cowardice coworker. Twelve
precious people gone to soon. A city left in turmoil. A nation in
mourning. Disbelief. Distress.
They didn’t know. Twelve people—mothers, fathers, sons, daughters,
grandparents, sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends,
coworkers. Human beings with purpose and passion.
They didn’t know. They would not be returning home at the end of the day. Empty beds.
Twelve funerals. Heartache. Heartbreak. Weeping. Weeping. Weeping.
Emotional pain encased in each teardrop. A river of tears for 12 human
beings.
Grief. But so much more—lives forever changed for those left behind.
How does the living carry on when a member of humanity murders loved
ones? How do you make sense of the senseless? Safety is shattered.
Security is shattered.
I looked at each photograph. Each of the 12 victims once breathed. They
loved, laughed, and lived. They cried. They are a part of humanity.
We look to God for answers. But there are no answers now. Someday there will be answers.
There is no closure. Closure is a myth—a tidy word meant to comfort the
living. A sense of loss remains. Nonetheless, the hurt becomes less and
less as time produces a scab—then a scar. But there is no final
healing—a future day on earth when all is well for the 12 families and
people left behind. Birthdays and death days hold memories.
We carry on because we must carry on. Hope sustains the weary soul. The grave holds the body, but not the spirit.
How could they have known?
Melissa Martin, Ph.D, is an author, columnist, educator, and therapist. She lives in Southern Ohio.
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