Standing defiant against a tide I cannot change, I remember what it was like to be strong and mighty.
I remember what it was like to be whole.
Was I meant to stand firm?
Was I meant to be crushed to sand all along?
Am I supposed to be destroyed?
Am I supposed to be broken and scattered?
Maybe one day I’ll be whole again in a different way.
The Uvalde school shooting occurred on May 24th, mere days after the Buffalo shooting. This shooting was made even more tragic and sickening by the woefully ineffective police response. They arrived before the shooter got into the building, did nothing to stop him, waited for almost an hour, and handcuffed desperate parents trying to get to their children. I can not get over the cowardice and cruelty. No doubt, more lives could have been saved with better response.
I lost a friend in the Pulse shooting in 2016. The attack started around 2:00am and didn’t end until after 5:00am. There was a long standoff between the shooter and the police. I don’t know if my friend died instantly or if he could have been saved if the police had put a stop to it sooner.
Seeing the parents beg the police to intervene at Uvalde was devastating. Reliving the emotions from losing my friend in the Pulse shooting was heartbreaking. The inevitable gun debate that always comes up is infuriating.
Shortly after the Pulse shooting, I was working a shift at the bank. Two men in their mid to late 30’s walked up to the counter. One had the silhouette of a rifle on his dark green shirt. The both walked up to the counter loudly laughing and proclaiming, completely unprompted, that no one was going to take their guns away. They were lost in their own conversation and didn’t even acknowledge that I greeted them.
They had no idea that I had lost a friend. I had to stand there politely while they continued boasting about their guns. Not a single mention of those who passed or what a tragedy it was. Just their precious guns. I’ve never wanted to jump over a counter so bad in all my life. I had to wait until they left before I was able to excuse myself and cry on the bathroom floor.
So far, I am the only one in my family who was personally effected by a mass shooting. I hope it stays that way.
I grew up in a family where many people own guns. I never felt safer because it.
Maybe it was because many of the people I grew up around that already made me feel uneasy turned out to be the ones who got really into guns. Only a few I would describe as truly responsible.
I held them, I’ve fired them, they’re just not for me.
I’ve had to explain this every time the gun debate comes up. I, like the vast majority of Americans, want stricter gun laws and a ban on assault rifles. But what about all those good guns with guns? My question is, how would you even know what a good guy with a gun looked like?
I get deeply uncomfortable anytime I see someone with an open carry gun strapped to their body. How tense do they have to be to feel like they need it? How well do they know how to use it? What if they are having a bad day? If this turns into a shooting how far do I think I’ll be able to run? With all the mass shootings, what are my chances this is truly a good guy? Anytime I see someone with an open carry I move as far away from them as possible. It’s just unnerving.
They don’t want to live in fear but they seem to walk around like everyone is their enemy. I’ll get them before they get me. They are so terrified someone is going to take their guns. I can tell you from experience, going to the funeral of someone taken too soon is far worse. I still hope they never know what that feels like. Or what it feels like to have “good guys with guns” mock your grief.
I feel like I’ve spent a lot of time, especially over the past few years, doing my best to remain soft and not go numb. For my friend, who deserved so much better, and for those not giving up on a better future.
