Terror Happens In Postcards Too

I’m a mess. There I said it.

Trigger warning just in case you need it.

I had a beautiful morning laughing with friends at the local PD sharing snuggles and showing off my newborn. Went to lunch with a friend. Driving home on the highway I heard sirens. 1, 2, 3, 4. I pulled over to the right to let them pass. 5, 6, 7 I started to get nervous. 8, 9, 10 at this point they are no longer going in the left lane.. both emergency shoulders and grass on the sides of the highway are flooded with Lights and sirens…. and they keep coming… That’s when I know

Something bad happened.

It sounds so stupid… something bad.. I can throw out all sorts of words, horrendous, horrible, scary… but that sentence… something bad happened it’s like a pit in my stomach. A knot that doesn’t go away.. I don’t want to read the news. I don’t want to see images of others pain splayed across a tv while families desperately search for loved ones. I remember that feeling. I don’t want to hear the sirens that have been going back and forth wondering what the next few weeks, months, years that person will rehash these last 25 minutes wondering what would have made the difference. The sound of those sirens are still in my head 10 hours later.

My kids have a million questions. Mostly I answer softly with a gentle hug and kind eyes. The person inside of me is screaming though. HOW DARE YOU! You person who has been identified got up this morning and destroyed pieces of lives, entire lives, teenage bliss and entire families. We live in suburbia, with palm trees and the summer breeze and cute little squirrels. We live in the postcard you pick up at the airport to show off to your friends about your fabulous vacation. HOW DARE YOU take away family dinners, childhood dreams, sibling rivalry! WHAT GAVE YOU THE RIGHT to destroy this town of bliss?

When driving home today my children asked what all the sirens were about and I had to keep myself in check. With a soft voice I explained the importance of lock down drills, and that today it wasn’t a drill. The voice inside my head was RAGING saying SOMEONE PLAYED G-D TODAY literally stood there and said you live you die.

My heart is broken knowing that the pain of being a survivor is now shared with others. The reality of my life is now the reality of other lives as well. Getting coffee is dangerous, going to a movie is dangerous, going to school, riding a bus, the list goes on and on. This group, this club that I’m in, is a group that no one signed up for but so many are all a part of. Unfortunately in today’s world Survivors of Terror live in postcards too.

To the families, staff, students and first responders of today’s senseless tragedy my heart is with you. My heart breaks. I wish I knew all the answers, I just know tomorrow will bring a new day.
#DouglasStrong #strengthtostrength

About the Author
Nechama Gutman was raised in South Florida. She traveled to Israel at the age of 17 where she fell in love with the land. Upon returning to the states she spent several years helping people make Aliyah. Nechama is a mother, wife, a survivor of a terrorist attack and person who wants to bring light into the world.
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