Shock, Horror… And tears on tears

If you’re sick of the coverage of Boston, etc., don’t read this. Just a forewarning. I don’t know anyone in Boston. I don’t think I knew anyone who was at the marathon. That doesn’t mean, however, that I’m any less affected by what has happened this week. I don’t think I’ve ever some so close to tears so many times while watching the news. Starting on Monday when I walked in to see the news on in Stevens’ classroom to the reports of the bombing, I haven’t quite stopped being horrified. This morning, anticipation built even more when reports were made that one suspect had been killed and another was being pursued. As of this blog, about 10:35 on Friday, the second suspect was still being surrounded in Watertown. I could go in to details about their lives, speculating on motives, history, and all that, but I won’t. False information has been perpetuated too often by the media and social networks. I’ll wait for that and hope that he is brought in alive to speak for himself. For now, I’ll think about the facts as they are. The missing MIT student that everyone was "positive" was involved? Not involved. Family terrorized, rumors spread… The dangers of unsubstantiated accusations. I feel for the family and, if he’s out there, the student as well. The victims? An 8-year-old, shown in a photograph right in front of suspect #2 (I refuse to give the names, they don’t deserve recognition) and right next to the backpack containing the bomb. This child will never grow up. He will never go through heartbreak, love, and so many more things that we deal with everyday, but never realize are a blessing. But, until his death, he had likely never experienced the horror that we now witness every day. I envy that, at least. His parents, right there with him, will question every day why it was their precious child that had to go, and not them. The man who lost both of his legs? Now stable, and even met Bradley Cooper. He will carry those wounds forever though. He won’t be able to do a simple task like walk up the steps. He will always be looked differently upon. But he lived. The police officer? Shot on the MIT campus, wrong place at the wrong time. He may have stopped another tragedy. Like I said, I want to avoid speculation, but the suspects had another bomb. What could they have been planning? More information comes in all the time, and most people will see it. It’s impossible not to. By reading this, you haven’t learned anything you couldn’t by looking anywhere else. But it’s all I can think about. It makes me sick, and I wish I could be distracted. Maybe tonight I’ll go to a movie and forget for a few hours. Tomorrow I’ll drown my sorrows in cherry pies and candy at VEISHEA. But in the back of my mind, I will be thinking of the horror on the coast, and hoping desperately to get it resolved. Until then, if this would reach anyone out there, stay strong. We all are behind you. Families of victims, they were taken too early. No one deserves that. Victims, I have no words. I am so sorry to everyone involved. This all makes me physically ill. Pardon my me while I wipe my tears.