This is a week that I will never forget.
I have gone through so many emotions in the last 3 days.
From complete panic as I started to see the first Facebook posts popping up with people sending their prayers to Boston.
To complete shock as I finally figured out was happening and started to watch the pictures and videos come rolling in.
To absolute fear as I tried to get into contact with some of my best friends who I knew where on the streets of Boston celebrating this Patriot’s Day.
To sadness/anger/defeat/resiliency/confusion as I sat glued to my computer into the wee hours of the morning over here in Madrid watching as the events unfolded.
But then it started to change to pride as I started to look at these videos differently. If you look past the fiery explosions and loud booms, you see the dozens of people who run towards the unknown and rip down metal barriers to get to those who have been injured.
Then came the butterflies as I started to see Tweets like this:
But then back to sadness as the number of casualties continued to rise. Three people dead. One an 8-year-old boy. An 8 year-old-boy whose only crime was going to the best city in the world to cheer on runners crossing the finish line of the Boston Marathon on Patriot’s Day.
And then a day full of confusion and fear as threats continued across the city, including another “mysterious package” on my very own campus at Boston University.
Absolute gratitude at the way the rest of the country reached out their arms and their hearts to the people of Boston, including our biggest enemy, at least in the sports world, the New York Yankees.
But then things go from bad to worse. It’s announced that one of the three fatalities was a Boston University grad student. As if this wasn’t already so close to home. My heart has broken and the tears keep coming at random moments.
Yesterday was mostly filled with anger. Anger at mass media for continuously publishing false information to try to be the first. Happy that we finally have a clear subject, but anxious as I just want them to catch him already!
And then came last night, when something magical happened. All of Boston came together for the one thing that binds almost all of us together, coincidentally the very thing that these terrorists used to try to tear us apart: sporting events.
That’s really all there is to say. Goosebumps. Chills. Tears. Smiles. Whatever you want to call it. We are Boston Strong.
The night was filled with U-S-A and WE ARE BOSTON chants for the rest of the night. And Paille was able to put one in the back of the net less than 6 minutes into the game for little 8-year-old Bruins fan Martin Richard.
It doesn’t matter the score at the end of the game. It was over 3 hours of staring at the television, smiling and crying over something that had nothing to do with bombs or terrorists. And the stick salute at the end of the game? Class act, Sabres. Class act.
(*Photo courtesy of the Boston Bruins*)
I have been a wreck all week. One moment I’ll be so happy and grateful to all the support being shown for my great city, but the next second it vanishes and turns to fear or anguish. Tears of sadness turn to tears of happiness in an instant. And sometimes right back again.
This is truly a week I’ll never forget. Even from 3,000 miles away. I miss Boston more than ever right now and cannot wait to get home.
It doesn’t matter how we choose to come together. Whether it be making blue and yellow Boston Strong ribbons. Or maybe just posting a tribute to the city you love on your blog. Or maybe signing up for the next blood drive. Or even just attending a simple hockey game.
We are Boston.