Triumph…Born from Tragedy

An 8 year old boy died in the blasts that rocked the Boston Marathon on Monday. That’s not easy to swallow. So did two others. A host of people lost limbs. Scores of others were seriously injured. It seems that every time I refresh my browser, the number of people hurt goes up.

And those are just the physical ailments. Everyone remotely close to touching this is in pain right now. Many will be mentally affected for life.

I read somewhere that the Newtown families were being honored in the last mile of the race. Some of those families were sitting at the finish line. I assume there were children among them. Children who lived through the awful events that day at Sandy Hook Elementary School. I don’t have the words to describe how heartbroken I am, knowing that they had to go through another preposterously horrible event. I don’t know how anyone would have words about that. Other than, ‘You’re in my prayers.’

These tragedies are so frequent now, that they are running into each other.  That’s a sign of these times. A really bad mark on these times.

I want to shut my eyes. But I keep seeing the news coverage. I want to hug my kids and never let them out of my sight. I want to lock my little boy and my little girl inside this apartment. And not let them out until this world becomes a better place. I want to help make the world a better place for them. I just don’t see it happening. It seems to be going in the opposite direction…with the force of a hurricane.

I don’t want to write about tragedy anymore. I don’t. The gruesome images. All that blood all over the streets. All the tears from people around the blast area. All that misery thrust upon another group of people. Thrust then upon this world. It is too much. It’s too dark. I don’t want to perpetuate this violence. To stretch out this misery. I want to write about triumph.

I went to college in Boston. I lived there for almost a decade. A large chunk of my adult life. In a good city. With a lot of good people. Strong people. Triumphant people. I want to write about those people doing great things.

I want to write about the heroes that tended to all those people in need today. The first responders that were running one way, when the masses were running the other. The people that legitimately saved lives. And limbs. While risking their own. They didn’t know if there were 10 more bombs in that area set to go off. They only knew people were in trouble and that they could help.

I want to write about the girl who was 100 yards from finishing the Boston Marathon, the mother of all marathons, and didn’t get the chance to do so. And how she trained again a year later. Harder than she did last time. Most importantly, how she overcame the fear. And ran again and finished in great time. I want to frame that picture of her crossing the finish line and hang it in my living room. And I want to tell that story again and again. To my children. To my children’s children.

I want to write about the person who was saved. Who sought out his rescuer. Someone of a different color. And how it eliminated a prejudice he once had. How he views an entire race of people another way, a better way, because of this awful day. And how he told that story to his rescuer. And how that warmed her heart. How that made her life, a life worth living, all in an instant.

I can’t wait to write about the girl that was there that fateful Marathon Monday, at the finish line, and decided to pursue her passion because of this. I want to write about how she found happiness. How she found herself. How through this tragedy, through all this death, she found life.

I really want to write about the boy in critical condition from Monday’s blast. How he clung to life. How he, a survivor, survived. I want to write in 20 years that he went on to be the greatest scientist ever. How he climbed Everest. How he created world peace. How he cured cancer. Maybe I’ll write how he was simply a great father and a great person. And how he lit the world for anyone who came in contact with him. That would be more than enough for me. More than enough for this world.

I want to write about all the triumphs that will result from this tragedy. I think that will serve the world much better than anything else I can do.

I know this is not easy, especially for the people really close to this. But I ask you not to look upon this event with thoughts of revenge. But that you look upon this day, for the triumphs that will be born from it. That you aide those trying to find this silver lining in an otherwise black sky. Be not the perpetuator of violence, but an enabler of triumph.

I pray for the people who died today. For their families. For their friends. I pray for all the people there today. That their physical and mental scars heal. I pray for all people tonight. All over the world. That they don’t have to experience anything like this.