Are you there God? It’s me, Molly.
I didn’t know how to write you this. It’s been the elephant in the room I’ve been adamantly ignoring. I’ve been avoiding addressing this situation, but it needs to be done. I need to give voice to the fact that this wasn’t just a news story that happened. This was a real life event, where a real life was ended and thousands of others were shaken.
The past couple of weeks have been really weird. An inexplicable mixture of sadness, confusion, fear and surrealism. Just overall weird.
This was on our campus, in our backyard, down our dorm room hall. This didn’t just “hit too close to home.” This hit home.
I was woken up to my roommate’s normally cheery voice sounding downright terrified. “Molly. There’s been a suspicious death on campus.” Still mostly asleep, I shrugged, “I’m sure it’s fine,” and went back to sleep without hesitation. Little did I know that would be the last night of peaceful slumber that I would have for the next few weeks.
I awoke to a different world, but a world that I was grateful to be in nonetheless. While I was technically awake, the following days felt like some weird limbo between dreamland and real life. The whole UCF community was in a fog.
I remember Aurora. The way my heart sank when I heard the news and the chills that immediately ran down my spine upon seeing the picture of the assailant. The panic and fear that spread across America over the idea that even a seemingly leisure activity was now marked with misery.
I remember Newtown. I was in Belize City on a mission trip and was practicing singing “Firework” for the youth service we were holding that night when the pastor came in and broke the news. Even thousands of miles away, across borders and spanning oceans, there was still an undeniable heaviness that loomed that day.
I will never forget the extremely close call that happened on St. Patrick’s Day my sophomore year at UCF. The fact that three of my friends live in the same building where James Oliver Seevakumaran was supposed to “give them hell.” The unnerving discovery and reveal of facts that changed the “suspicious death” to a suicide to a “planned attack.” The videos of students being shuffled out of their dorm in the middle of the night. The images of the weapons, checklists, and even the police discovering his body. While I was gradually receiving more facts and answers, I certainly wasn’t getting more peace.
Why do these bad things happen? Why is the world so ugly sometimes? Why does the darkness so often seem to trump the light?
Literally thousands of lives were saved due to the bravery of the assailant’s roommate and the UCF Police, and I am so incredibly thankful for that. I shed tears of joy knowing that my friends and fellow Knights are okay. We were really blessed and I cannot thank you enough for our safety. I wish I could truly express my gratitude for this event being remembered as an “almost” and not a “did.” So, why am I still not okay with this situation?
The mind is a fascinating thing. I’ve seen the chokehold that a chemical imbalance in the mind can so wrongly and sickeningly warp someone’s mind. Mental illness is a serious issue. It breaks my heart.
I hate wondering what someone’s future could hold for them if they only realized how incredible life can be if you just don’t give up on it. I find myself asking so many questions. Don’t they know that this life is so incomparably beautiful and that there’s people out there who want them to realize that? That there’s a chance for happiness? That there’s a whole other life outside of this twisted world they’ve created?
Why do they have to do sickening things? Why do they have to succumb to their brokenness, and even worse, plan to spread the darkness they feel inside? Don’t they know that there’s enough light to go around? That it’s okay to not be okay and that there are resources? Help is always available and hope is real.
I haven’t really been able to bounce back since “the incident.” I still feel uneasy. I don’t know what it is about it that really hit me hard. I have been wracking my brain trying to figure out just how everyone else is doing so well going about their day-to-day so well when I’m still freaking out inside of the incident last Sunday.
Throughout this ordeal, I’ve realized how rarely I cry. How often I don’t let myself just feel. Often, I’m afraid to really leap into life’s many adventures because I’m afraid. Afraid to live, love and lose.
I live a really freakin’ blessed life, but sometimes I become complacent in my situations and get buried in my daily schedule. I catch myself viewing this life as a “bucket list.” But why cross things off a bucket list when I can instead pile up a laundry list of as many awesome memories as I possibly can?
If this situation was a lesson of anything, it’s to not be afraid. To not be scared to love fiercely and live beautifully. Feel. Ask for help. Pray. Laugh a little too long. Smile a little too much. Hug a little too tight. Remind friends and family and co-workers and strangers that you care about them. Actually care about them. To tell people that they’re lovely. Look at the darkness in life and scoff at its miniscule hold against the power of the light. Marinade in the beauty of a leaf rustling in the wind, a song that takes you back to a time when you felt infinite, or the way there’s someone out there whose hand fits perfectly in yours and one day you will find them.
I need to remember this. I need to remember to live. I need to remember to be as grateful for every breath as I am for the things that take my breath away. I don’t need another “close call” to remind me to hold loved ones close. I see that a lot people of have an overwhelming capacity for goodness and I just need to hold on to that. Help me remember this.