Dear Orlando,
On June 12, 2016, the lives of 49 people, as well as countless others changed forever. What was supposed to be a night out dancing at Pulse in Orlando, turned out to be one of the most deadly massacres in the United States of America. My second home was rocked by a man who was struggling with his own identity problems and didn’t have a valid reason for doing what he did. He opened fire in a club that I used to go to with my friends, where I experienced my first look at a drag queen, where I first heard a really good Nicki Minaj song, where I celebrated my friends for being who they are, where I took my very first party bus, where my friends and I who just didn’t have a care in the world except throwing back shots and dancing the night away. Those nights were so much fun! We didn’t care that we had to be at work at 4:00 a.m., 5:00 a.m., 6:00 a.m. in the morning—all we cared about was spending time together and just having a good time.
I woke up at 5:00 a.m. that morning to take my dog out and I checked my iPad to see my friend Ken saying that he was rushing into work because something happened at Pulse. I didn’t think much of it until I started seeing my feed blow up with his updates that said, “I'm just a couple of blocks from Pulse Nightclub. Multiple shots fired in the club just hours ago. Suspect shot off multiple rounds inside the club hitting several people and then set off towards Orlando Regional. ORMC went on lockdown, as well as two other hospitals around, but the suspect ended up back in the club and is now dead. Multiple emergency crews on scene. At least 55-65 police units from all over the central Florida area.” and more updates such as “Orlando PD have confirmed that there is a mass casualty at Pulse Nightclub. I'm on scene of the press conference that is going to be taking place any minute now. News 13 is about to take it live. National syndications will be taking it live as well including Fox News, Good Morning America and CNN.” I also remember seeing this: “The number has risen. 50 casualties, 53 injured. Governor has been asked to declare a state of emergency”. After that, I just lost it. My second home has been invaded and has been wounded and there’s as many as over 60+ dead, but more specifically the first 49 were named. People went to that club to celebrate themselves, to have a good time, be with friends. They all literally got killed just for being themselves. Now it became a race against time to make sure all my friends down there were safe and unharmed and thank goodness Facebook rolled out their safe button in the event of a natural disaster or terror attack (this was rolled out at the time of the attacks in Paris). Now we had to play the waiting game, making sure people I knew clicked the button that said "safe" and checking on friends that were in that general area. Lucky for me, everyone I knew was safe and they were using Facebook to let us all know. I counted my lucky stars that day. My heart broke for the ones that weren’t accounted for at the time, and it broke for everyone involved. Once the full 49 names were released, I broke down crying harder, not because I knew them (which I didn’t) but because I had friends who were friends with these people. These victims were friends, brothers, husbands, boyfriends. They had jobs and lives that were now put on hold because someone decided that they were angry at the LGBTQ community and wanted to make a statement of their own. I cried because Orlando was hurting, and they were hurting badly. I cried because I was angry for someone doing this to my second home. I cried because I just couldn’t hold in anything anymore. I cried because I was hurting.
It’s been a week since what happened and it’s still hard to look at my Facebook feed because it’s all filled with videos, articles, and everything else about the shooting. A week later and I still cry and I still feel my heart hurting for everyone—every time I see Luis’s photo, because he was just so young, like everyone else that died. I cry because he was a Gryffindor (I’m a Slytherin). Later in the week, all the houses under the Harry Potter fandom came together to raise their wands in Luis’s memory. I lost it. I cry for Jerry Wright. He was someone that worked in The Emporium, a location where I worked in Disney World. I cry for him because I had friends that worked with him, co-workers that were friends with him. I cry for them. I cry for him. I cry for the club. Pulse opened because the owner’s brother had AIDS and wanted a safe haven for anyone in the LGBTQ community to have a place to go to, to be themselves with no judgement. Now that the dust has settled a bit, and the families are claiming their loved ones, and now this week starts the process of their funerals. Funerals that shouldn’t even be going on because this should have never have happened. I’m in no way angry at anyone involved except the shooter. He had no business doing what he did. There was no satisfaction in having done this because all he got was a hostages, a standoff with police and a few shots taken to himself and he’s dead.
There’s so much hate in the world, already. Why can’t we just have a little love, because if anything, what the world needs now is love, sweet love.
Orlando needs love.
And Orlando, I love you with all my heart.
Love always,
Rachel
(Any Facebook statuses used in this article were purely used with permission from Ken Ashlin, friend and former Skipper at Jungle Cruise, currently working for News 13 in Orlando, Florida).