I’ve been struggling to put into words the amalgam of
emotions I’ve felt coursing through my veins this last week.
The sheer terror of not knowing if those I love had been
harmed by such a senseless act of violence.
Relief brought on by the distance of a single city block.
Sorrow and empathy for beautiful souls taken too soon, too
young, and for those whose blood had been spilled by malice.
White. Hot. Anger.
Soul-searching confusion. I don’t believe that people can be
born evil. Rather I choose to believe that those individuals that aid,
mastermind, and put into action these horrible episodes of terror are victims
of upbringing, of circumstance, of ill-natured indoctrination. But I was
incredibly shaken by the image of a baby-faced teen who somehow was detached
enough from humanity to plant seeds of destruction in crowds of innocent,
jubilant human beings so full of life and promise. I felt for a moment that
this war of good verses evil- of us versus them- had swayed in a dark
direction. But through my tears I found clarity.
I found an all-consuming feeling of pride.
Pride in the first responders. Those in uniform, or
well-worn sneakers, or ‘go team’ shirts that cast off crippling fear and fought
through gruesome destruction to aid the wounded; offering pieces of themselves,
belts for tourniquets, fingers to stanch bleeding, comfort, calmness, strength,
and selflessness to save lives.
Pride in the self-awareness of those most deeply affected,
who offered up help to law enforcement in an attempt to aid in the capture of
souls gone adrift and lost in hatred.
Pride in the anonymous masses to care enough to donate their
time, their money, their prayers, to wonderful people who will need all the
support they can get in their uphill battles of rehabilitation and healing.
Pride in my alma mater, Boston College, for setting forth
into the world some of the most caring individuals that the “good” of humanity
can claim as their own. From couples, deeply in love, whose unwavering faith
stays strong after loss of limbs, to young adults who took it upon themselves
to inspire thousands to join in their plan to finish those last miles for those
who could not, the Boston College community showed its true colors, a beacon of
light among madness.
And finally, pride in the city I love. A town where I spent
four of the best years of my life thus far, a town that is home to some of my
dearest friends, and my second home these last few years. Bostonians proved,
once again, that nothing and no one could break their spirit. The city banded
together offering support, showing strength through adversity, and showing evil that rearing its ugly head in Boston would have dire consequences.
As I walked the cobbled streets of Boston this weekend, past
the devastation, I saw tokens of support everywhere. Flowers, signs, smiles
between perfect strangers, and the soft, inexplicable glow of strength, of
perseverance, of togetherness, and I thought to myself- this is what love looks
like.
Boston Strong.
Kaitlin Welch
Boston College 2010
