My heart just aches at this latest tragedy. One hundred forty four (and counting) injured. Many of the injured will undergo amputations. An eight year old boy dead. It just breaks my heart. Six square blocks cornered off with sneakers and bags left behind. April is a month for rejuvenation and re-invigoration. That is why several marathons, including the Boston one, occur in the month of April. In a couple of weeks the NYC marathon is supposed to occur. What will happen now? Last time NYC tried to have a marathon, superstorm sandy had a different idea. Mother nature is one thing. Man-made purposeful destruction is another.
Eight children severely injured. Why? These were low ground explosives. Pot marks scar nearby buildings; now detailing the trauma Boston experienced today.
I don’t get it. Not many of us do. Not many of us ever will. 12 seconds between two bombs. Why? My mind is running through my stored images from 9/11. I remember vividly the distressed rescue dogs who were whimpering when they could not find any one to rescue. I still hear those cries of distress.
My heart goes out to those family members of the injured. I can’t imagine the trauma experienced by the injured. I wish I could hug my child right now. But I am yet again on the business road. Ball bearings being pulled out of people by medical doctors. Shrapnel lying all over the finish line. It is just so wrong. It appears that a majority of those that were injured were the support systems for those that were running: family and friends who were there to cheer the accomplishment of a loved, dear one. There must be an enormous, insurmountable amount of disbelief hanging in the air.
Can you imagine having a loved one cheering you on one second and then the next their leg is flying in a different direction from their body? The “elite” runners had already come and gone. The moms and pops and sisters and brothers,of those that were just running after a long training cycle, were positioning themselves to provide that last bit of support.
Bloody footprints all around. The chaos and carnage caused by two small bombs. Flags were flying high and now they lie on the ground trampled upon by the weight of sheer panic. There were no credible threats in advance. We can’t ever expect to get advanced warnings of harm that is to come. But now many of the injured will have to undergo serial operations allowing for dead tissue to be removed.
With so many phone cameras capturing everyday events, we are bound to see repeated video clips of the tragedy. We are also bound to eventually find who did this horrific act. We will be hit with an “avalanche” of information. Yet, I can’t get over the death of the 8-year old boy. I can’t imagine the tears that are flowing right now on his behalf. It’s Patriot Day. But freedom is wracked with salty tears.
Bless those that ran towards the source of the chaos and helped bring people out. And may those fighting for their lives right now make it through the long night.