I Remember…

I remember the sound of the first shot fired. I remember my friend falling at my feet. I remember the gun, the bright orange earplugs, the messy hair. His eyes glazed over and empty. The blood, the bodies, the screaming, the crying and the chaos. The sirens, the hospital, the news reporters, the police department, the phone ringing off the hook. I remember saying goodbye. I remember the next morning, the media and the puddle of tears at my feet. The visitation, funeral and burial. I remember it all…

But, I also remember the sky the day we buried those 3 young girls. It was one of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen; with 3 bright pink rays stretching toward the heavens. I remember knowing at that moment, without a shadow of doubt, that those 3 girls were home with Jesus.

I remember friends. Friends that stuck together and didn’t let anything come between them. Friends that knew when to just sit and be with each other. When to stop by and get you out of the house. When to call you out and tell you to stop thinking so much. And when to slip a note in your locker before you got to school because they just wanted you to know they cared. Friends that got it when no one else in the world could scratch the surface. They knew how short, how precious life was and chose to live it to the fullest, knowing what was truly important. Friends that loved deeply and encouraged one another often.

I remember teachers and staff that stood up for and protected their students. Teachers that cared less about a paycheck or a grade on a piece of paper and more about our overall well-being. They knew when to push us, when to encourage us and when we just needed a break. They lent a shoulder to cry on and even cried with us. I remember strong, courageous teachers that led the way and taught us far more than anyone could ever find in a text book.

That’s what I remember.