The shooting

This week has been a whirlwind of emotions and I am not sure how you go through all of this without the catharsis of writing it all down.  So that is what I am doing. I want to memorialize my thoughts on this, chronicle the events of the last week through my eyes, so that I will always remember all of this, so that the details will never stray from my being and maybe more importantly so that those who have not experienced it will do so through my words. 

June 12, 2016 there was a mass shooting at the Pulse Nightclub in Orlando and what would become to date the worst mass shooting in our history. Those words have still not fully settled in my mind.  First that it had happened at all, that it had happened in a place of acceptance and freedom, or that it had happened in my own community.

The morning after the shooting I awoke to a message from my dear friend David asking if Jym and I were OK.  At first, not knowing exactly what had occurred overnight while I slept safely in my bed, I responded that unless there was a shooting at the Lowes or Floor & Decor I was probably OK (massive home tiling job I have undertaken lately) and that I was too old and tired for clubbing these days.

It wasn’t until I got to work that I started to see the devastating news and absorb the gravity of what had actually occurred.  And the more I watched the worse it became.  I am not someone who lately takes the horrors of this world well and this was almost too much to process.  The numbers at first were sketchy and trickled in.  Every new hour brought more to the casualty list until a final count…49 dead and at least 53 more injured, some critically. 

The news coverage was, as usual, day and night.  It was all you saw and all you thought about.  Having the TV on in my office I was privy to listening to every tragic detail all day long for 2 full days. I would then come home and watch the coverage all night. I guess I thought that filling up my mind with the facts and stories would help me to sort out what I was feeling.  CNN filled my days and at night in the silence of my bed I was left with my own thoughts to fill up the only quiet moments I knew. My thoughts were all over the place.  And in small moments of clarity I would stop to consider a friend I thought might have been there and scrambled to their Facebook page to make sure they were safe.  Thankfully all were.

For me I started to really struggle when the stories of the victims began to emerge.  First there were the heroic stories of carrying people to safety and the stories of how some escaped the melee.  Then the stories of the texts people received from their loved ones saying they were going to die, saying “I love you” one last time. But the ones that affected me most were the stories of those inside the club trapped with the gunman for hours listening to him kill those around them, hiding, hoping; stories of the last reported moments of people’s lives.  It was almost too much to bear. 

Then came the names and faces of the dead. And with that the stories of their lives, these 49 unknowns, who they were, who loved them, what they contributed to this world.  Their lives seemingly reduced to little more than a blurb under a random photo and if they were lucky a small mention of them in a packaged story meant to tear at the heart of the viewer. I suppose that is how it always goes with a tragedy like this.  But I tried to focus on those people as much difficulty as that brought to me because any focus on the shooter gave him a name and a face and his cause (whatever that even was) a voice.  And he doesn’t deserve that. 

But for me it was too close to home for the first time.  Although I have been saddened and deeply affected by previous shooting events and other mass devastation like the Paris attacks and 911, I can say that this event for me affected me even deeper than that. And I was unsure exactly why.

I struggled with the randomness of it all.  How some survived and others did not.  How fate or a moments change in plan affected the outcome.  Thinking of how it must have felt inside that dark club with the music blaring and the joy and laughter and then the sound of the gunfire.  What was that?  Was it the music?  Then the searing pain of a bullet piercing your skin, the sounds of screams echoing against the constant barrage of gunfire being pumped continuously from that sig sauer, people trampling the wounded in a desperate attempt to find an exit, or worse your mind reeling in panic as you search for a place to hide.

Then they played the snapchat cell phone video of one of the victims as she panned around the room at her friends all dancing and laughing and then as the camera moved to her own face she captured her own last moments on this earth as she heard the gunfire and the phone falls away, her body among the counted dead. Over and over they played it as if seeing it once was not searing it into my permanent memory. 

It also struck me deeply that it was the gay community which I have long been an advocate for.  And that in itself was troubling, to see a group of people already having to fight for every ounce of their humanity against a world that has long been devoid of compassion, having befallen yet another horrible incident.  Hearing that some of these people had been inadvertently “outed” as a result of the shooting was heartbreaking.  Not only are loved ones finding out that their son/daughter/friend was dead but that they were gay at the same time.  But what was by far the most difficult for me to process was that there was a man in the morgue who was yet unidentified.  In my mind I considered the reasons that might be.  Was his family out of state? Possibly he was estranged from his family and they wanted nothing to do with him.  Had come here for acceptance and to live the life he wanted only to die alongside the only friends he had in this world and now no one was left to speak his name?  Or did a family somewhere know it was him and didn’t want to claim the body for fear the name would be released to the press and their family name long “ruined” by what they have deemed a poor lifestyle choice.  Or was it simply that the family had no idea he was in that club because he hid the truth of who he was from them for fear of rejection.  Either way, there was a man who deserved to be honored and laid to rest and remembered. What would happen to him now? I was consumed by those thoughts and a deep heartbreaking sadness.

I have witnessed first hand the way that lives are manipulated and destroyed by those who fear and hate the gay community.  And now to see something so tragic unfold before me in a time when acceptance was finally starting to take a firm hold was devastating to me. 

The one thing I did not feel was fear.  Strangely.  I am not, nor have I ever been, someone who alters my life based on fear.  I still travel.  I don’t go to the grocery store or a restaurant and worry that I will be killed.  I guess that is the blessing of living in the USA.  And these attacks haven’t altered that for me.  I know for some it has.  But not for me. In fact, after the Paris attacks when everyone was canceling their plans I would have actually gone there in a heart beat if I had the money and time off. Would not have thought twice about it.

But all my words and feelings on all of this were bottled up.  I listened and gathered information and struggled inside my own mind for answers, for relief and release.

Then I began to see the reaction of my city.  When blood was called for people lined up so many strong that they couldn’t process them all.  They offered freely so much blood that the banks didn’t have the capacity to hold it all. They came forward selflessly offering what they could of themselves.  Not afraid.  Not hiding. Not defeated.  But empowered. Invigorated with purpose. The people of Orlando stood up.  That was meaningful and valuable and beautiful.  And so I added that too, to the many emotions I was processing.

speechless thoughts

For 2 days I scrolled mindlessly through Facebook randomly “liking” other people’s posts but unable to express my own thoughts on the matter.  Honestly I was not sure what to say or how to say it.  It was as if everything I was feeling was rushing through me like a mass of water over a shattered dam.  I couldn’t even piece any of it together meaningfully. 

Finally as Day 2 drew itself slowly to a close I managed to find some expression for my thoughts and posted this on my page:

“I have struggled so much with the events of yesterday. It’s as if in moments I want to scream out, to cry, to hold my breath and close my eyes and imagine the world as it was before such unbearable heartbreak and loss.

I have called Orlando my home for the last 20 years. When I moved here I thought this town was magical. A few years ago as I passed along the highway at night with the city’s brilliant lights against the dark sky I thought how blessed I was to live in a place so open minded and full of life, so varied in its composition and so vibrant in its colors.

To say that this act of hatred has not irreparably altered the face of this town would be lying, but not in the way that one would imagine. When I took a breath and opened my eyes to the city today, I looked around and saw that it had not been diminished at his hand as one man had hoped. It had instead been made stronger. This city has shown that there was no amount of blood shed that could not be matched by the blood of its people holding out their own flesh to give their own in a time of need. That the love and compassion for each other had grown instead of waned. That the bright lights of the city burn not now nor ever in the darkness of fear but under the light of thousands of tiny candles lighting the way to the heavens for so many beautiful souls stolen from this earth.

I have always been someone who feels intensely, loves deeply, lives passionately, and when called for, battles fiercely. That is why I love this city. Because it is me. Because the people are one with it.

This city breathes in all of us, even those who set foot here only a brief time. That’s its magic.

I am proud that I am part of a community that has proven itself to be loving, resilient and strong even in the face of such unspeakable horror. #OrlandoStrong #WeAreOrlando”

Preparing to heal

Although I was enamored with the beautiful way my city was dealing with this tragedy, it would be nearly a week until I found the words to post again. And only then at the thought of attending the Sunday night vigil at Lake Eola.  It came as the suggestion of a friend who I had dinner with on Wednesday night.  3 of us sat and talked openly about the week and it seemed cathartic to me in some strange way to allow words to cross my lips and hear the sounds of grief that were my own voice speaking to those I trusted and held close but also 2 people who were experiencing this all with me. I decided that although I had a hectic week and my work schedule would be a rough combination with an evening vigil, being out amongst friends and sharing this impossible agony with others might somehow serve to relieve some of the deep agony tearing apart the fiber of my very being. I was about to find out that it would be much more than that.

The morning of the vigil my thoughts were with what I was about to experience and my emotions and words spilled easily onto the page allowing me to post not just about my feelings but a call to action to those in my life. 

“This last week the weight of grief upon me for people I never knew has been consuming yet confusing. The emotions I have for what occurred in Orlando last week are not those of fear but of penetrating sadness. But having not lost anyone I loved personally I questioned why I felt so much deep pain and loss.

Then I realized that what I am feeling is the loss all of us should feel when a light has been extinguished from this world. It is our earthly connection to all of humanity, a tiny invisible thread that has been severed and frayed like a nerve ending temporarily exposed to the rawness of the bitter wind. We should all, somewhere in the depths our beings, feel this loss.

But what I have learned of this city is that the darkness left by 49 lights going out at once has the power to be matched by the illumination of thousands in their honor. So tonight I will stand in solidarity side by side with my dearest friends and a few thousand others and share grief as we light candles at Lake Eola and remember what was stolen from all of us a week ago and begin to heal together.

So wherever you are tonight, light a candle. Light it for Orlando. Light it for the lives lost here. Light it for humanity. Light it for the difference each of us can make individually in this world and for the power that comes when we all stand together as one. Light it because as long as there is good in this world it will overcome evil. Let it represent the light that is, and has always been in each of our hands and should always be in our hearts. Because that is the light that has the power to change the world. #WeAreOrlando #OrlandoStrong”

The afternoon called for a last minute trip to the dollar store to fill up on all the “vigil” needs we had…sidewalk chalk (which we failed to use), bubble wands (who doesn’t love the joy of bubbles), regular wick based candles (those tall ones that we could leave at the memorial) and special battery operated candles with rainbow colored lights.  I found a perfect one amongst the boxes of candles.  It was pink and had the words “Be Strong, unstoppable, kind, honest, determined, loving …be Brave” on it.  It was exactly the candle for me to hold at this vigil and to eventually leave at the Dr. Phillips Center memorial to inspire the rest of the mourners. 

The Dr. Phillips Center Memorial

We headed to the vigil at 4 parking at a friend’s mother’s house and walking.  We went to the Dr. Phillips memorial first.  As I approached, among all the things I had loaded into my overburdened purse I recalled the one thing I should have brought…tissues.  I thought I would be OK but as we approached the edge of the memorial all the sadness and loss rushed over me in a way I had not expected.  

For those of you that have never experienced a mass memorial I will only say that it is overwhelming.  It holds all the sadness of a funeral, the reverence of a grave, and the emotion and ethereal beauty of remembrance.  It is powerful and meaningful.  It evokes all feelings and thoughts painfully at once. It extracts all breath from your lungs and temporarily halts all words from crossing your lips.  It is as if every door of your heart is slamming closed then bursting open all at the same time.

Walking around the memorial was a solemn and solitary experience.  Each of us wandered along silently taking pictures and pausing to contemplate each individual photo with the age displayed by their name.  As sadly young as Akyra Monet Murray at the tender age of only 18, her entire life ahead of her or the mother who stepped willingly between her son and the shooter taking the bullet herself and dying in the ultimate sacrifice of a mother to a child. 

Strewn amidst the piles of flowers and balloons were intimate personal effects presumably left there by friends and family of the loved ones left behind.  Some photos or small trinkets that somehow meant something to the invisible soul that laid it at this quiet altar. I think those items were the most poignant to me and affected me deeply.  Although I had not personally lost anyone close to me that terrible day so many had and they were grieving an unimaginable loss.  That thought did not escape my mind for a single brief moment.  There were also other mementos left along the way.  Messages of hope and love, posters, flags, candles…all meaningful to the individual who reached out their hand at that moment in time to offer their respect, pay their homage, offer hope to themselves and to humanity, to honor the dead and to remind the living of all that has gone before and all that we can yet be.

The entire lawn in front of the Dr. Phillips Center was covered in areas of remembrance including messages left in the sand.  We spent quite a bit of time here in the hot sun of the afternoon before beginning our walk to the lake shore through the downtown.  There, as we waited on a street corner for the signal to walk a guy passed us with a huge gorgeous American flag in rainbow colors.  Leslie loved it so much she asked if we could take a picture and he stopped to let us and we began talking.  His name was Mikey and after a short conversation he said he was from Rhode Island which was a commonality with Dawn.  Soon everyone was hugging and chatting.  You would never have this experience just out on the street under regular circumstances.  And I loved that. It was beautiful and spontaneous.  Such a brilliant soul we had the chance to cross paths with in that one moment in time.

We stopped at a 7-11 for a quick snack and beverage on the way to the lake and this was my first glimpse at what I was about to experience. The store was packed and the line was long and there was one cashier but no one was complaining or huffing and everyone was kind and thoughtful to each other and chatting openly.  I remember thinking this was not your everyday experience at 7-11…except that I wanted to eat everything I saw (but didn’t…yay me!)

Our arrival at the lake

We arrived at the lake and headed toward the band shell.  We were fairly early and the full weight of the crowd had not yet gathered giving us some open space to explore. We decided to wander over toward the band shell and see what was happening there assuming it to be the hub of the activity. On the way there we passed an area where they had a sign that you could put your handprint on.  Leslie did this but it required putting your hand into a bucket of black paint and the only way to wash your hand off was in an equal size bucket of water and it did not seem to come off her easily and there was no towel to dry my hands so I opted to not do it and let her have all the fun.  I needed my camera hand free. LOL. We also passed people on the lawn rolling out a large canvas that they apparently had displayed at the game the night previous.  It eventually as the evening progressed became its own memorial.

We also passed the security areas and then I noticed the SWAT snipers on the roof of a nearby building.  It was honestly the first time I considered the danger of an event like this and it was truly the only looming presence that made me aware of the danger we are all always facing in this world.  But I think that the Orlando responders did a great job of protecting everyone that night.  There was a lot of security everywhere and I can see what a large undertaking an event of that size outside in the open can be and the challenges it can create from a safety standpoint for the police etc.  But bravo to all of them for their hard work and dedication to making that evening what it was for everyone…a chance to come together and renew our spirits.  I hope that they too, although in the on-the-job mindset, were able to enjoy and embrace what was happening there that night.

To embrace a Muslim

What I am going to mention next I do so because it is a part of the canvas of what is happening here and in the world and not because I give any connection in any way to the shooter as I have deliberately not mentioned his name or his motives in this blog as he does not deserve mention or acknowledgement.  I think we all know he was a sick and disturbed individual who tried to be a martyr for a cause I am not even convinced he embraced.

As we made our way around the band shell to the other side, on a small hill, we passed by a group of people from the APA (association of Pakistani Americans of Central Florida) and a few other Muslim groups like APPNA (Association of Physicians of Pakistani-descent North America).  They were sitting in the grass surrounded by signs denouncing the violence and saying that Muslims were peaceful and that they stood with all of us for love. I thought that was quite brave of them to be there and I liked that they even had a rainbow flag sign. I was taking a photo and 2 of the women turned toward me and smiled and waved and held their signs up for me.  I thought how beautiful their smiles were and how sincere they looked.  I wanted to hug them but I had never done that crazy stuff before…ask a stranger for a hug. 

I am actually pretty shy when it comes to speaking.  This was evident when we were at the Dr. Phillips memorial and a man named Matt asked me to comment on my thoughts to help out with an ad for One Orlando (I believe) that he was working on.  He said I could just do audio (as I was NOT an on-camera kind of gal).  I get terrified to even speak even though I clearly have an opinion.  My friend Leslie suggested I simply read my Facebook post from earlier in the day and I agreed to that but even then my reading was rough.  I don’t know why I have this block when it comes to public speaking.  It makes me want to throw up.  Total panic. But I pushed through that.  Then when my head was clear I regretted not reading it better and then I regretted not reading the previous post (as I felt it would have been more appropriate for what he had wanted) but my thought process was clouded by panic.  Anyway…so there I was, wanting to express emotions to a group of strangers and the anxiety over it got the better of me and all I could do was thank them for the photo op. 

But later that night I would have the opportunity for a redo and I stepped up as expressed in my Facebook post afterward…

”Last night as we approached the bandstand at the vigil we passed a small area where people were sitting in the grass with signs from the Muslim community denouncing violence and extremism and standing with Orlando in support and unity. As I was taking a picture two of the beautiful ladies turned around and smiled at me. I thanked them for the photo op and wandered off.

But all night long I watched them from my small spot in the crowd and I thought how difficult it must be to feel the unwarranted weight of judgment upon you for the twisted and abhorrent behavior of others, how hard it must be to feel the eyes of blame on you for acts you did not commit. I considered what it must feel like to defend an entire religion to people who are often too ignorant to know and too self-absorbed to even want to listen. I thought how brave and bold they were to do the one thing that all Muslims need to do in this climate of fear…stand up and speak out and denounce those who don’t fairly represent them.

Then I thought how I would feel if I was judged by society on the deplorable actions of radical “Christians”. I considered how much people need to listen and learn and open their hearts and minds to each other’s fears and realize we are all humans and although by a different name most of us seek the same thing…love, peace, understanding and acceptance.

So after the vigil I went over to the group and quietly expressed my thoughts to them “I have been thinking about you all night and just wanted to hug you and tell you how brave you all are and how appreciated it is that you are here standing up for love with us.” They all started hugging me and then my friends joined in and soon we were all talking and hugging. That simple gesture opened a dialogue of understanding and growth for all of us.

For a while now I have tried to steer away from presenting my positions in this forum but after last night I can see very clearly that my voice deserves to be heard just as much as those who hate. Possibly more so. Because I believe that most people are a lot like me and because the voice of the minority is all that is heard when the good and decent people in this world fail to speak. Hatred wins when the voices of love are silent. My voice will speak loud and clear for LOVE…for ALL…ALWAYS."

To say I was very affected by that exchange would be an understatement.  Don’t get me wrong.  I have always believed that it is wrong to lump in all people of a religion with a few bad apples.  I have witnessed that with Christianity as well.  But the truth is that I don’t know many Muslims and although I have longed to sit and talk with someone of the Muslim faith and really hear their side of things I have not had that opportunity.  I wish I did so I could speak more factually on the topic and defend my position better but also for my own understanding. But inside my heart where I sort out right from wrong I know that at the very least I need more knowledge to make a judgment and I refuse to believe that all Muslims should be held to account for the actions of people who are nothing more than cowards and murderers. 

My husband has read many of the religious works of the world and is more the scholar than I am but from our general conversations we have concluded that the radical choices made by individuals seem to be based on poor interpretations of ancient text by very disturbed individuals (this applies to ALL religious zealots not just Muslims).  For me and what I know of God, whoever you think he/she may be, in most of the religions of the world the higher power is loving and peaceful and that is always the message to the masses.  The rest of the mess is all in the details and I believe that Muslims like Christians often gravitate toward what they have been taught is right and often they twist and turn what they deem divine into a sort of support for their cause.  But based on interpretation, the same passages that offer some a path to peace and enlightenment tend to usher others toward hatred and even, sadly to violence.  On a side note this is possibly why I have distanced myself from religion as an institution in my adulthood and consider myself more “spiritual” than “religious”. I choose to think for myself too much.

When people act like Muslims are the only ones misinterpreting biblical texts inappropriately I would like to refer you to the other elephant in the room which has been brought to light in the wake of this tragedy…the LGBTQ community.  I have long been an advocate for the LGBTQ community LONG before that was even a thing.  And anyone who knows me knows that.  I have watched as people have judged and slandered and belittled and ravaged the LGBTQ community all under the banner of their supposed “religious” beliefs.  And yes this includes Muslims AND Christians.  Which is the point I am making here.  Love is love… and that is love of a man to a man, a friend to a friend, a Christian to a Muslim. And LOVE and tolerance is what your religion should be preaching always.  And if it isn’t then maybe it’s not a religion you want to be a part of.  I, for one, find immense beauty in ALL the religions of the world.  But not the actual “religion” part (by that I mean all the blather and jibberish of details that no one can really confirm as fact…the very things that separate each religion from itself).  I prefer the parts that bind us together, the parts where people seek a connection with something or someone outside the bounds of this earthy plane.  So for me it is a very easy consideration to be able to sit down and listen to someone’s perspective.  If more people listened instead of talking this world would be a better place.

But anyway.  Off my soap box…for now.  I mean I never really step off that thing…just occasionally sit down for a while. LOL