First I wanted to talk about my sunburn and the amazing beach day we had yesterday, but then I remembered listening to NPR earlier, and hearing the stories of the families of people who were at Pulse a year ago when tragedy struck. A lot of the people there were of Latin decent, and while many of the clubbers spoke English, not a lot of families did. So, I was hearing the story of this lady whose cousin was like her brother, and she didn’t have anyone to translate for her. She heard his name but didn’t know what they said about him. She didn’t know if he was on the injured or the killed list. She went to the Police, and was met with frustration at not being able to get answers, and met with the same kind of frustration at hospitals.
After getting an answer, she contacted his mom, who started to fly in from Puerto Rico. Then, they got his confirmation of death while she was in the air. So the cousin, met his mother at the airport, and from the look on her face she knew what happened.
I was crying hearing her story, and knowing so many others shared a similar experience.
I think it’s because I already love this unborn baby so much that it affects me so much more now, I mean, I would have been misty eyed at that before. It’s just now, I can feel her heartbreak. The utter devastation. I could empathize before, but it didn’t hit me in the stomach with grief, not like this.
What this reminds me of, is my mission on earth. I am committed to creating as much love and acceptance as possible. Hopefully if enough people get on board with that, we’ll reach a tipping point and hate and violence will dwindle.
In a world where mass shootings and hate crimes and terrorism happens, I choose to still act out of love. I will teach my child to love endlessly, and to be compassionate. I will also teach them to be as perceptive as Sherlock Holmes, and confident enough to speak out.
May all of the families of those affected by the Pulse shooting, and any hate crime, find peace, and know that they are loved.