The 22nd May 2017 is a day Britain will never forget. I’m not eloquent enough to write the kind of blog post that would do justice to the memory of the victims, nor am I calm enough to write a post free of foul language if I were to share my thoughts on the scum who carried out the atrocious acts of violence against our children. However, I needed to post something. I couldn’t write in my journal that night because my hands were still shaking and the tears were free flowing so much I couldn’t see. I’m pretty sure every man, woman, and child was in the same state.
The images of missing teenagers flashed up on the television all day, and the radio reported up to the minute news as we discovered the death toll and the names of those beautiful souls murdered in this callous act. All I saw was a sea of faces all very similar to the friends on my fourteen year old daughter’s Instagram feed. Children. Family. Smiling, beautiful youngsters with their lives ahead of them. I didn’t want to let my three teenagers out of my sight the next day, and I hugged them just a little bit longer than is considered ‘cool,’ but I didn’t care.
If I even try to imagine what the parents of the murdered children must be going through my heart breaks a little bit more. Not just the children either; my heart breaks for the twelve year old daughter who was cared for by police after her mother was killed, the friends who were dancing with their BFFs one minute and cradling their dead bodies the next, and the hundreds still in intensive care, or critically ill in hospital. None of us will ever forget.
I love my country, and I’m so proud to be British. I adore the beautiful countryside and the vibrant cities. I cherish eating fish and chips by the seaside, and candy floss on the pier. There are more castles and historic buildings than we know what to do with, and a rich history that shaped our nation. We’ve produced artists, authors, poets, sportsmen and women, actors, and inspirational figures. King Henry VIII, Shakespeare, the Beatles!
What I love most about my country is the people. We are all pretty epic! I have friends from every culture and religion, and I love them all equally. We are all British and stand together to support our fellow countryman.
An author friend posted on her Facebook page yesterday asking for people to share the good deed stories that trickled out after the horrific acts of Monday night. It was a post full of passion for the good things people did. The taxi drivers giving free rides, the residents opening up their homes, restaurants donating food to the hospital to help feed the parents of children who were in intensive care or surgery. The rabbi delivering tea to the police force on duty, the hotel owner who rounded up children to keep them safe. Strangers keeping hold of lone children until they could be reunited with family. Ariana Grande’s mother pulling children backstage to keep them safe in the aftermath of the explosion.
As a country, we came together, we grieved together, and we will always stand together.
There’s no need to like, share, or comment on this post. I haven’t written it for any other purpose than a necessity to note down my thoughts. I would, however, like to direct you to the Manchester Evening News fundraising page where you can offer support if you wish.