I know what you’re thinking, here’s yet another article talking about gun control. Here’s another debrief on one of the deadliest mass shootings in our country. Well, place your assumptions aside. I won’t preach my views on gun control. I won’t even try and scrutinize Omar Mateen’s motives. I’m here to tell you about an image scarred in my mind, why I can’t forget it, and why it matters.

On my recent trip to Florida, I got the opportunity to experience new things — whether it was taste-testing Coca-Cola from around the world or seeing the most beautiful sunset — I am grateful for it all. What I didn’t expect, however, was to see the Pulse nightclub in person. The whole encounter probably lasted a total of two minutes, but those are 120 seconds I won’t ever forget.

I spent the day wandering the streets of Disney Springs and was on my way to Florida’s biggest McDonald’s (it’s not every day that you get to see them serve pizza with a fully decked arcade). After an entire day sporting my lion mane due to the humidity, the rain finally started to pick up. We got into the van as fast as possible, hoping to avoid being caught in a storm. While driving back, my uncle mentioned how we would be crossing paths with the nightclub. At first, I didn’t understand what he was referencing, but then I understood. Right. The Pulsenightclub.

To be honest, I didn’t know what to expect. It was dark, it was raining, and I was about to see a place where 49 beautiful lives were wrongly stolen. I half expected to only see yellow caution tape, but what I saw was much more beautiful. The fence was covered in memorabilia. So much so that it hardly looked like a fence anymore. Vibrant flowers and numerous flags were scattered around. Colorful banners and posters screaming “Orlando Strong” and “Love is Love” were clearly visible despite the darkness of the night. Like they say — even in times of darkness, there is light.

Two police cars surrounded the club entrance on both sides. Other cars were pulled up to the curb, taking in the memorabilia. The shooting occurred on June 12, but I could easily tell this is still a fresh wound. The Pride Flag still soars on buildings off the highway. I have passed by countless people that are sporting T-shirts that boldly encourage “More Love, Less Hate.” Orlando is still grieving. All of United States is shaken, confused. There is a fire station across the street. An emergency hospital is located a couple blocks down from the club. Despite this, it happened. Despite all the previous shootings and mass murders we’ve seen, the deadliest attack since 9/11 still took place in 2016. Every attack we say “never again” but it still occurs. We have come to expect, unfortunately — that it could be anytime, anywhere, by anyone.

Like I promised, I won’t throw my opinions of gun control and my debrief on a mass murderer at you. Not because my opinions aren’t strong or rational, but because I don’t want to add more fuel to Omar Mateen’s name when I could be remembering 49 others. Instead of asking why he did it, look at who he affected. Those two minutes as a passerby seared an image into my mind that I can’t shake, nor do I want to. It allowed me to realize how real and common bigotry, hate and violence have actually become. Even then, seeing the Pulse nightclub in person reinforced my faith in humanity. The beautiful memorabilia didn’t happen on its own — actual people brought flowers, hung bold banners and made posters. There are 7.4 billion people in the world. Don’t let one bad seed discredit the 10 greater individuals around you.