One year later

It's been one year since the bombings at the Boston Marathon.  It's been quite a year.  We were so blessed that day to be kept out of harm's way when we were literally sitting across the street from bomb #2.

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.