Karen Morse: A thank-you note to Aurora
Because in the midst of dark, shocking disregard and cruelty, we were privileged to see such inspiring generosity and caring.
It is impossible to imagine those first disorienting moments. Impossible to comprehend how the night had turned upside down and inside out. The smoke clawing. The audible terror of gunfire and screams of pain. The ripping flash of gunfire. The barely seen figure hell-bent on destruction.
Yet, in this sensory assault, this mayhem, this perversity, decisions were instantly made based on the utmost kindness. While the gunman was cloaked in all manner of protective gear, people chose to use their bodies to protect others. These people had no Kevlar vests to shield them, but they would fling themselves, their futures, their possibilities, their tomorrows over others to offer them a chance. "Here," they said, "let me use all that I am to protect all that you are. You deserve a chance."
Friends stayed at each other's side, offering life-giving assistance. Refusing to leave and try to save themselves. It may have taken months of planning to marry the desire to hurt them with the mans and tools of doing so, but it only took minutes to decide I love my friend, my child, my dear one too much to ever, ever abandon them. True brotherhood made manifest in a theatre, in that frightful, dark theatre in Aurora.
So the strident cacophony of cruelty continues to be silenced by the soft melody of kindness. The pictures of the candles lit, flowers laid by crosses, hugs of comfort shared, all sing this song. The sweet, sweet remembrances of those mortal lives lost. "They were the best of us," we say, "the best of us."
To which I add ... thank you, Aurora, for reminding us of what is best in all of us.
-- Karen Morse, Utica, NY
It is impossible to imagine those first disorienting moments. Impossible to comprehend how the night had turned upside down and inside out. The smoke clawing. The audible terror of gunfire and screams of pain. The ripping flash of gunfire. The barely seen figure hell-bent on destruction.
Yet, in this sensory assault, this mayhem, this perversity, decisions were instantly made based on the utmost kindness. While the gunman was cloaked in all manner of protective gear, people chose to use their bodies to protect others. These people had no Kevlar vests to shield them, but they would fling themselves, their futures, their possibilities, their tomorrows over others to offer them a chance. "Here," they said, "let me use all that I am to protect all that you are. You deserve a chance."
Friends stayed at each other's side, offering life-giving assistance. Refusing to leave and try to save themselves. It may have taken months of planning to marry the desire to hurt them with the mans and tools of doing so, but it only took minutes to decide I love my friend, my child, my dear one too much to ever, ever abandon them. True brotherhood made manifest in a theatre, in that frightful, dark theatre in Aurora.
So the strident cacophony of cruelty continues to be silenced by the soft melody of kindness. The pictures of the candles lit, flowers laid by crosses, hugs of comfort shared, all sing this song. The sweet, sweet remembrances of those mortal lives lost. "They were the best of us," we say, "the best of us."
To which I add ... thank you, Aurora, for reminding us of what is best in all of us.
-- Karen Morse, Utica, NY
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