Pulse - A Year Since, A Year Away

One year ago today, dancing stopped as innocent lives with futures full of worth were violently ripped from us. My sense of peace was utterly shattered and a part of me hasn’t been the same since. See, in those moments, those that came after the fear, after the hours of not-knowing and holding our collective breath, an all-encompassing rage was born and I hated everything.

I hated You. Your nostalgia for the way things were. Your fetishization of objects of war. Your religions of fear. Your ignorant traditions. Your prejudices. Your hesitations.  I blame You and hated You because one person alone did not do this to 49 souls; to 49 people who'll never share their secrets, fears, or silly inside jokes with their lovers; to 49 potentialities missing out on the little nothings that color our lives.  No, You did this, all of You.  And so I raged.

And I couldn't write about it. I couldn't write, I couldn't sing, and I couldn't paint it out. There was no bloodletting and for the longest time, I wasn't ok. I stopped doing things. I stopped seeing my family and friends, I stopped creating, I stopped loving. And then it was 2017 and before I knew it, we'd circled around to this date, this time, this anniversary for when all the colors drained from things.

I can't always be cheerful and stupid-giddy, but I'm trying now and starting over. I'm slowly working on reconnecting to people and opening up again. I miss crocheting things and doodling dorky stories about Brandon and me. I miss my friends. I miss loving everything.

So, one year ago today, 49 people died dancing, living, and existing. Wouldn't they want me to do the same? To live and breathe and experience not just for myself, but for those who cannot? Wouldn't they want me to wrap myself in colors that stand for Life, Healing, Sunlight, Nature, Serenity, and Spirit? To have pride again?

image from Sia's "The Greatest"