My life has never been the same. Mark has never quite been able to wrap his brain around what happened. I have never been able to understand how evil could exist to such a degree that a man could walk up, set a bomb down next to a small child, and walk away. My children who were with me that day were greatly affected. Joel has a hard time being in crowds now without panicking.
In the months after the bombs, Mark had "bomb dreams." He had (and still does have) survivor's guilt, and what I have coined as "Finisher's Guilt." I was more of the mindset, "Well, that happened and we are fine now, so let's move on." But Mark has struggled with that moment for a year now.
I thought I was OK. I was looking forward to this upcoming trip to Boston. And then when I started to pack my suitcase yesterday, the emotions just started flowing. It had never occurred to me that sometimes a vacation doesn't have a happy ending. I started to remember the sounds and smells of that day last year. I thought about waiting in our hotel room with everyone I loved safe and sound, while others were out on the streets searching for their family and friends who had not been able to finish the race.
I can still hear the bombs. I can still hear the sirens.
But one thing I can also hear is my cell phone. I have a new phone now, but I haven't been able to part with my old phone. Whenever I see its sparkly blue case, I think about that day in Boston. I think about my Dad being the first one to try to call and see if we were OK. I think of the hundreds of alert tones I heard as close friends and distant acquaintances all were eager to hear that we were OK. I think of typing as fast as I could on that little screen trying to reply to everyone, and having 5 more texts come through in the meantime. I love that old phone. It reminds me that I am loved.
A lot has happened in the last year. Right after Boston, my son left on a mission for 2 years. The next month, my Dad died very suddenly and unexpectedly. My daughter moved away to go to college. My neighbor died in a tragic motorcycle accident. I have cried more in the last year than all of my life together.
But I know I am loved. I know things will work out. Bad stuff happens and we keep going forward because we are strong. The struggle is the part of life that makes us strong.
I am excited to be there right at the finish line again this year to see Mark and his brother finish the race safely. I hope that they can put their demons behind them. I can't wait to see Boston stand strong and together once again.
