It's been 30 years since Oklahoma City Murrah Building bombing. Each year I remember those people I knew who died that day. They had no warning that April 19th would be their last day to breath, to plan, to love, to enjoy life, to say goodbye. Leaving loved ones shocked and devastated at the sudden realization there were to be no more walks, talks, kisses, nor any joy of the life that they once had.
I wasn't related to those killed but as I walked the streets littered with buildings scattered over streets, cars, and parking lots, tears fell and the words coming out of my mouth were prayers to GOD. "Father, Look what they've done to my city." At the time I didn't know who the destroyer was. Then I felt shame because I was fretting over wood and steel instead of people. And yet the building house people, give people a place to meet and work. The destruction of buildings was destroying livelihoods. By destroying livelihoods you destroy people. Even now when I hear a news broadcaster saying there was a fire that destroyed a home BUT no one was injured. I want to talk back to the person saying that and tell them there were injuries. When disaster happens to destroy people's homes it causes grief, suffering, and long term financial problems.
On one occasion I remember being heart broken and wanted to have money to buy flowers to lay at the wall where the YMCA was. I would take walks and talk to GOD about needing flowers to lay at the memorial beside the YMCA. A few days after my walk and talk with GOD I saw some roses growing on a bush that had branches hanging over the city easement. I didn't think the city would mind donating flowers to honor those I knew who died April 19th. The next day I took the flowers to the little memorial beside the YMCA and as I got closer to the memorial I started feeling as if I'd pass out. Grief stricken, tears streaming, I laid the four roses inside the little white fence. The grief was over whelming. Later I remembered that as a child I had taken swimming lessons in that YMCA. Here's a link to a really good article about the YMCA and photos of how it looked when new. It was a beautiful building. https://okcmod.com/2014/03/the-rise-and-inglorious-fall-of-the-downtown-ymca/
On a different occasion I went to visit the memorial and I felt a little sad which was to be expected. After all I had worked in an office just West of St. Joseph's and had gone for lunch under the Murrah Building. On this day I was standing beside the survivors tree looking out over the chairs and the pond when I turned and face the Journal Record Building I nearly passed out. I instantly started to cry. I seemed fine looking at the new part of the memorial but when I saw the old familiar place it was unexpected grief. I had to sit down.
On another day I was driving on Western Avenue and head to the Old Farmer's Market on 311 S. Klein to buy vegetables. As I turned South at the corner on 10th onto Western Avenue the oddest feeling came over me. The only way to describe it is as if grief were a wave on the ocean pushing it's way toward me to engulf me. It came wave after wave. The grief was actually coming from the direction of the Murrah Building downtown. I'd never heard of grief coming from a certain place or being like a wave on the ocean.
Years later I went to college and took graphic design classes. In a Photoshop class we were given an assignment to make a book cover. I decided to change a book cover that was about the Murrah bombing called 'In Their Name'. I still have the book cover. When I had turned in my assignment the book cover grew legs and walked off by itself. I had to print a new copy. I have no idea who helped that book cover escape my professor's office. Bless their little heart. It was a really good book cover but it cost too much to have it printed out as a book cover. Besides the files on the zip drive may not be readable by now.
I know I'm not alone in feeling grief for that horrific day. What I wonder about is the grief those poor souls felt who died that day. Everything was stolen from them except maybe grief. Waves of grief.
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