One year speaks volumes. It’s the difference between being on the cusp of new beginnings and on the verge of finishing this program. It’s growing older, hopefully wiser, and passing through new stages of life and personality. The reality of a year does not always seem apparent when passing through day to day. The new becomes old and routine. As a child never understands how tall they’ve grown until the doctor measures them at their yearly check up, we do not realize the extent of a full year until we take a second and think about it.
One year represents a period of challenges, pain, and heartbreak for the victims of the Boston Marathon bombings. One year, out of forever, four lives will never live to see. Richard Martin, Krystle Campbell, Lu Lingzi, and Sean Collier should have lived this year and many more. Instead we mourn.
At this point of reflection, one year in, Boston has proven its strength, perseverance, and passion. Good has outshone bad in the first responders thinking only of assisting those in need and working for hours on end to find justice, marathon runners crossing the finish line and running right through to donate blood for those in need, the tears of the people of the city, the state, and the world as they watched in horror at what occurred.
There was a comedian who said something along the lines that Boston needs to get over it because bombings like this happen all the time all around the world. Those incidents do not hit as close to home or burn as much as this day did, and to an extent I understand that sentiment. It’s not as though we don’t sympathize, it’s just the inability to realize the magnitude of such pain until it happens to us. Human experience is based on this fact. He missed the point.
A year ago, I was in LA visiting friends when I saw on Facebook what happened. I called my sister because she had sent a text not twenty minutes before that she was two miles away from the finish line. When she didn’t answer, I called my parents and they hadn’t even heard what happened yet. The unknown, that terror, was the scariest moments of my life, but I was lucky in the end because all those that I love were safe.
To those opposing fans who said “_________ Stronger” or that they wished they could have gone through something like this to win a championship, you need to learn perspective. The championship was a happy moment of temporary relief, but it does not make anything better, it’s not worth the loss.
The Boston Marathon comes along just as Boston needs it. The beginning of spring, a time when people who have endured a long, blistering, cold winter, may finally step outside, come together, smile, and enjoy the sunshine. A long, deep breathe out.
One year later, and that sentiment has not changed, it’s deepened.
Next week, we will come together once more. Hopefully the sun will be shining, the air will be sweet (but not too warm for the runners), people will be laughing and cheering, but perhaps a bit subdued. We will be celebrating the lives of those lost and for the victims who battle on as much as for the runners proving a feat of mental and physical achievement.
One year and we are stronger than ever. I don’t just mean Boston, but all of the people who ever have to suffer through terror, anguish, violence, and hate. Because after this, after the shootings at Newtown, Aurora, and Fort Hood, and unfortunately many more, now, I get the point.