That night, I crawled into bed, stretched out my aching legs, and scrolled through my text messages. Even though I had tried to respond to each one of them as soon as I could, I wanted to re-read them all. I think over 60 text messages chimed in my pocket within 15 minutes of the first explosion on Boylston Street and dozens more came in as the day wore on. Then, I re-read every email and Facebook post. When I checked the time, I realized that I had been reliving the day’s events for over an hour. I switched off my phone and drifted into a deep sleep feeling the comfort of friendship like the warm, soft blanket that I had tucked against my cheek.
There will always be people in the world who do bad things. I honestly cannot fathom what makes a person open fire in a movie theater, gun down their classmates, or plant two bombs at the finish line of the world’s most prestigious marathon. It is incomprehensible to me and I’ve seen enough. When I returned from the shaken and somber city of Boston, I was exhausted emotionally and physically. I was also very conflicted. I had not been hurt. I had finished the race. My family and children were safe. At that moment, it felt wrong to be grateful for all the friends who cared for me and content with my accomplishment. I didn’t know how to correctly respond to anyone’s inquiries and I wasn’t sure how to even tell my story.
“Mommy, why does it seem like the violence is getting closer and closer to us every day?” asked my 10-year-old son Jack after I had settled in at home. I was speechless and perplexed – painfully realizing that Jack had also become a victim of the violence even though he was thousands of miles away in Colorado. Again, I wasn’t sure how to respond. When I found my words, I said, “I don’t know, honey, but I do know that it will all be okay. We just have to have faith. The good will always be stronger than the bad.” And, my words were actually sincere. I mean, I felt it – especially when I was inundated with an outpouring of love manifested in all forms of communication on such a horrific day.
Thank you my friends
Out of the bad, comes the good. Re-reading texts from childhood friends brought back wonderful memories of my youth. Emails from my co-workers made me recognize that I am valued for the work that I do and the contributions I make. Calls from friends with whom I had lost touch immediately rekindled those relationships. And, being with my older brother in the chaos allowed each of us to share our feelings in ways that otherwise would have been uncomfortable and awkward – establishing what I believe will now be an unbreakable bond. For weeks afterwards, I had emotional conversations with so many people – some whom I didn’t know well but now do, some who were strangers but provided remarkable insight, and some who went through what I did and are now a new connection with prospects for a future friendship.
I am no longer conflicted and I owe that to you. My friends. You were there for me in so many ways – with your hugs, your comforting words, your regular check-ins. Out of the bad, comes the good. This terrible experience confirmed what I knew in my heart all along. It confirmed my belief that if we all stick together in this often hurtful world, we will get through it with less scars and more smiles. Like I said to Jack, the good will always be stronger than the bad. You are the good. And the good will always outnumber the bad.
Let’s show the victims of the Boston bombings exactly what the good looks like by raising much-needed funds for the Boston Children’s Hospital.
