Remembering...

[remembering]. and looking forward.

One year ago, on April 15th, 2013, I had the privilege of being at the Boston marathon finish line, volunteering, as I have for each of the previous years that I have been in Boston.  I was a block away from where the bombs went off - and so my experience, while very distinctly etched in my mind, and forever life-changing, was not the same as those who were in imminent danger or those who are known simply as "survivors."  I heard the explosions, saw the smoke, and felt the ground shake, and the subsequent almost unearthly silence, and then mass panic.  And I evacuated and ran with everyone else, arriving home, shaken, changed, and physically unharmed, even as I forever bear the emotional marks of the day.  

You can read my more present tense reflections from those days here, here, and here.

Now a full year plus later, it has surprised me, how long the fear has lasted.  How frequent the flashbacks and how strong the memories.  How ready the tears.  How fierce the love and protectiveness of my city and my friends.

And how much I both want to remember and yet to let it remain in the past and move on.

I can't walk down to Copley library without vivid memories, often goosebumps, and sometimes tears.  I am very aware in crowds now, and in closed in spaces or large crowds, often have an exit strategy figured out.  I tell my family I love them a lot more and don't take those days together for granted.  I identify much more strongly with Boston, and get angry when it seems like the news is looking for an angle, or overusing BostonStrong, turning it into a catch-phrase for media popularity, rather than recognizing the solemnity of recognition that accompanies it for me.  I am proud of our city and our spirit, our culture, and our rough edges and our fierce pride.  Watching the news coverage this week, of survivor stories, and seeing all those images from that day and subsequent days, has just been too much for me this week.  It brings back too many memories and too many emotions of pride mixed with fear mixed with gratitude for life mixed with tears for innocence lost.  

"I remember" is not words for me, but images, sounds, memories, and emotions.  And often tears.

Now, a full year later, there's a lot that I still don't know.  I don't know how long I'll see the smoke in my mind, or how vivid the flashbacks will continue to be - I don't know if I'll ever fully be able to explain to someone else the complexity of emotions that it raises in me.

But I do know this: 

I am grateful for each day of life that I have been given.  

I am grateful to be with my husband and my eldest son today, and to have the privilege of welcoming home my second son very soon.  He wasn't even a twinkle of imagination last year, and feels like a gift in this year.

I swell with pride when I see anything Boston marathon related.

I am celebrating today, watching this years' runners and volunteers.  And reclaiming the day for the full celebration that it always has been.

And even though we have fears, aches, pains, and scars, and weaknesses, Bostonians and runners are resilient and perseverant, and strong.  If you wanted to attack a group that would give up, give in, or be destroyed - then you picked the wrong group.

Fears and weaknesses merely prove our humanity.  How we respond to them - who and what we run towards and for - is what matters... And today, 27,000+ runners are running forward - reclaiming the celebration of the day - and the rest of us, myself as well, we all run forward as well.