Blink
A couple years ago, I heard about a school shooting.
At first, I think it barely registered. Disgusting as it is, it’s been becoming more and more commonplace in recent years and when the news first breaks, we sort of nod and mumble an ‘Oh dear’ and go about our days.
I’ve grown up in a generation where such things are simply a matter of course. The Columbine massacre happened in 1999, when I was a junior in high school. By no means the first, it was the one that brought it to the forefront of media and caught our attention. It didn’t begin there; from the University of Texas sniper in the sixties to Columbine, and through to the shooting just days ago at Henry Ford Community College in Michigan, school shootings have become the backdrop to our daily lives, top news stories for a few days and repeating headlines on CNN and we, the people, have gotten used to it.
I didn’t blink, when I first heard. When the text message came from a good friend that the school was in Virginia, it gave me pause. Not a huge state, I had friends scattered about in academia there, both working and attending classes. Even still, there are a lot of universities there. They could very well have been safe.
Karen was okay. I found that out quickly; she worked in a university, but she was safe. Then came another text message: it was Virginia Tech after all. That stopped me in my tracks.
I’ve known Lily for… god, I can’t even remember how long. We were just kids. Spending too much time on the internet, chattering about our favorite bands and thing that are crucial to fifteen year olds but later seem of such little consequence. At the end of the day, she was my friend – a dear friend, the baby sister I’d never had. Funny, and untouchably optimistic, the girl could draw a smile from me on even my worst day. In the small group of friends we had created, Lily was more than just one of the fold – she was the heart.
The idea of her being hurt, of perhaps even being gone… it was just too much for me to handle.
There’s this funny feeling I get in the pit of my stomach when I’m nervous. Like sitting at the top of the highest hill of a roller coaster, in those seconds before the big drop. But all the fun is gone; the roller coaster is broken, the breaks shot, the tracks busted and nothing but horror waiting at the bottom of the hill. It fluttered about all day.
So I texted. Just checking in. Got no response.
The day wore on; I was at work, shirking my duties by refreshing the CNN homepage every few seconds. I was lucky that I had a kind boss, who looked the other way when I would switch off my work console phone, obsessively checking my personal cell for messages and watching newsreels on the internet, chewing my nails down to bloody ends.
I was hundreds of miles away, in Chicago, and I had never felt more helpless in my life. There was nothing I could do but sit and wait and hope. A friend in Alabama was doing the same: waiting, and praying.
We texted. The messages grew more desperate.
Please just give us a heads up, let us know you’re okay.
It was late afternoon when the news finally came down, a message from Lily’s cousin came through and let us know: Lily was alive. Hurt, badly, and airlifted away, but alive.
It was strange, the relief I felt. She was badly hurt but knowing, just knowing that she was alive… the relief hit me like a ton of bricks.
I’m a severe asthmatic, so I wear my emotions not only on my face but in my lungs. I sank into my chair, puffing on an inhaler and sobbing in full view of the busy lobby in my work building. I didn’t care. Lily was alive, and that was all that mattered.
More news came. She’d been shot several times, once in her face, and the idea was something I couldn’t quite grasp. Lily is beautiful and the thought of that even being changed was something I just could not understand. It was too soon. We still had to wait and see.
I tried to tell my mother what had happened on the drive home, but I just cried. I couldn’t help it.
Days passed and we learned more. So many lives were lost that day. So many families forever changed. Our Lily survived it, our strong, beautiful Lily pressing forever forward. This girl, the little sister I never had, made me so proud, going back to very place where she had lost friends and her life had forever been changed, to walk across the stage and accept her diploma while still healing from her wounds.
Time went on and I grew angry – at myself, at everyone. All of us who don’t blink anymore, who barely raise a nod when the news comes on that such horrors had once again taken place. What is WRONG with us? What is wrong with ME? Why did it take nearly losing a dear friend for me to start caring again?
For ever incidence of gun violence – the ones that are headline news and top stories on CNN and the ones that don’t get mentioned and just pass us by without notice – there are families grieving. There are lives lost. There are people going through what I did, waiting and hoping and praying. But we forget, and we don’t care, because it doesn’t touch us.
How dare we ignore it! How dare we glance at a television screen and not care! These are lives, these are friends and sons and daughters, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, teachers, students, men, women, everyone. If we stop caring, we let it keep happening. No one should have to be afraid to go to school or go to work or walk down the street. Gun violence increases exponentially every day and we sit and we don’t blink, we allow it. It’s time to put an end to all of this.
As time passed and Lily took the time to heal, it was clear that the physical wounds would not be the only marks left upon her. Still so strong and so beautiful, Lily now fights so that others won’t know the pain and the loss she had to experience. The little sister I adopted so long ago isn’t just a little kid anymore – she is a role model, for me and for others, spurring us to get involved and take a stand against gun violence and lax gun laws and loopholes that put dangerous weapons into the hands of people who should not carry the power of life and death.
Here’s to you, Lily Habtu – my friend, and my hero. You didn’t deserve what you went through, but I will never be prouder than anyone else for the way you’ve bounced back and worked to put an end to the violence.
For more information and to get involved, check out these links:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Protest-Easy-Guns/18152484949
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Campaign-to-Close-the-Gun-Show-Loophole/52610644250
http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=18109305653
http://www.protesteasyguns.com
http://www.studentsforgunfreeschools.org
http://www.bradycampaign.org
Don’t be like me. Don’t wait for something to happen that it becomes personal. MAKE IT personal. Stand up and say, ‘NO! This CANNOT – this WILL NOT – happen again!’
