January 8, 2011. I didn’t take any pictures. I’ve only told my own little part of the story to a handful of people. It’s not something I really want to write down. Not because I want to forget; I won’t and can’t. But it’s not something I feel comfortable talking about, even now, perhaps even less so now than in previous years.
There are some stories that need to be shared and told.
There are some stories that just need to be carried within one’s self and remembered.
Regardless of whether this was something as deeply personal for you as it was for me or if it was just another sad, bloody headline, it’s something worth remembering. The names of those slain and those who survived are worth remembering.
The only name not worth remembering is, unfortunately enough, the most memorable. But then, villains always do get the most press.
Regardless, I remember. Three years. And counting.