When I was four years old, I lived in an apartment with my mother, father and one year old brother in Queens. Not much went on in our town and each day was the same routine. My brother would be left at my grandparents' and my mother would walk me to preschool each morning. On our walk to school, a little boy by the name of Nicky would accompany us with his grandmother as he was in my class as well. Every morning he would sing the same song the whole way to school, "Soak Up the Sun" by Sheryl Crow. Being that we did live in Queens, you could see the New York City skyline throughout most of our town, including the walk to school, which was my favorite part.
One morning, I woke up and completed my normal routine. It was a typical Tuesday morning, not a cloud in the sky. I don't remember walking to school that morning. I don't remember Nicky singing "Soak Up the Sun". I don't remember even going to school. I was only four so naturally, of course, I don't remember all the details. However, there was one thing I remember very vividly of this Tuesday so many years ago. My father would return home from work every evening at 6:30 pm sharp. I would wait for him on the steps of our home and when he would walk through the door I would greet him by jumping into his arms yelling "Daddy!" No matter how tired he was that day he always smiled, picked me up and gave me a kiss hello. He was never late either, he always walked through the door at 6:30 pm.
However on this particular Tuesday, my father didn't walk through the door at 6:30 pm, not 6:31pm, not even 7 pm. He came home around 9 pm. Although he was often exhausted from work, the expression on his face when he came home was nothing I had ever seen before. He looked depressed, worrisome and most of all, afraid. My mother ran up to him with my infant brother in her arms. My father then picked me up and all four of us hugged for what seemed like an eternity. It seemed like for these brief moments, the Earth had stood still. Later on, I would come to realize my father was so exhausted because he just walked home all the way from Manhattan and the beautiful New York City skyline which I had admired so much, was covered in smoke. The date was September 11, 2001.
Fast forward fifteen years.
The day started like any other. It was a typical Sunday morning, I had just finished doing some errands with with my mother. As per any ordinary Sunday, my family and I sat together at the table and proceeded to organize lunch. My father had turned on the television to ABC News as he always did whenever we sat together for a meal. This is the moment where it was not an ordinary Sunday any longer. What I had heard next not only shocked me, but it left me with feelings I cannot even begin to describe. Disgusted. Heartbroken. Scared. These feelings barely scrape the surface on the events that had just unfolded in our country. There had been a shooting at a nightclub in Orlando, Florida in the early hours of the morning on June 12th. It had been the second biggest terrorist attack on U.S. soil since 9/11.
For a second time, it had felt like the Earth had stopped again. I sat there with my family digesting the news and wondered to myself "How could this happen?" That sentence repeated in my head on my way to work that day, on the way home and even when I went to sleep. I don't think any of us will understand why these attacks continue to happen all over the world. We will never understand how people could be capable of such malicious acts. We will never understand why the lives of so many innocent people have been taken so soon. We will never understand why these senseless acts of terror never cease to stop. Often times, it seems as soon as the world heals its wound from the last attack, another takes place in a different country. We will never have an answer to any of these questions because as heartbreaking as it may be, there isn't an answer to any of them, and there never will be.
Not much has changed in the fifteen years between 9/11 and the Orlando shooting. People still discriminate and hate those who are different than themselves. Unfortunately, that is something that will most likely never end. Although it didn't take place in my city and I don't know anyone directly affected by this tragedy, I think I can speak for all of us when I say, our hearts are with you Orlando, and our prayers are with the families grieving for the loss of their loved ones.
In the words of Lin Manuel Miranda during his acceptance speech at the 2016 Tony Awards, "Love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love and love cannot be killed or swept aside." They can instill fear in us, they can make all the hateful speeches they want, but this is America. We do not back down. We do not spread hate. And we most certainly do not give up.
