Oklahoma City Memorial & Museum

I’m sitting in my RV right now about to head for bed.  As you might know, I’m on sort of a personal tour. I’m traveling around the US seeing friends & visiting places. Today i spent a few hours at the Oklahoma City Bombing Memorial and I can say I felt something. I think it would be hard to step foot inside the 3 story step-by-step break down of what tragedy took place on April 19th 1995 and not feel something, but i do believe it touches us all in different ways. For myself i felt sadness for the families that lost someone. 168 people were murdered in this one senseless act, but i read something like 20,000+ people were affected by the 168 lost. People lost their wives, their husbands, their parents and even 19 children were killed. One of the many stories that made me tear up was about a lady who went to the building to get her new baby a social security card. She was with her mom and her other child. As she stood and waited for the card the bomb went off. Hours later they found her buried in rubble with a huge beam crushing her. After an hour of trying to dig her out there was a possible 2nd bomb scare and they had to evacuate leaving her alone, buried, and in pain. When they were ok’ed to go back in they returned to her and realized the only way she would survive would be to amputate her leg. The beam was just too large and heavy to be moved off of her. After the doctor finished the procedure of removing her leg, she was carried out to safety….then….. she was told her mother and 2 kids were dead. She just needed a social security number so her child could get a job, get a cell phone & open a bank account. She decided April 19th at 9am would be a good time to go get it.

I also had the “what if’s” & “why” thoughts. Those questions were written throughout the 3 floors. Survivors wondering why me? I’m wondering what lead those 2 men to do something like this? I’m sure they felt pain, anger, and that there was nothing else they could do to get their point across. but what help could have been offered to them ahead of time? 

As you leave the 2nd floor heading to the bottom floor the elevator opens and right there in your face are 8x10 pictures of every victim. They are each in a glass case so their loved ones can leave little mementos in their honor.  I glanced across the room catching my eye on the youngest, the oldest, the people that were fit and could have ran out (but were probably blind sided).  I notice a bench in the middle of the room and on that bench sat a box of kleenex. As a tear welled in my eye i chuckled.  Us humans are so easy to figure out sometimes. Go ahead and try to look dead into the eyes of these 168 victims who’s lives were stripped right away from them (and their families) and not tear up. For about $2.55 that box of kleenex said “I know you are going to do it, its ok reflection is not a bad thing, reflection is an ingredient of growth”  I think we (visitors of this museum) tear up for the victims, for their families, for the entire tragedy that took place, but we also tear up for our lives, for our loved ones, because we are alive.  Our tears are mixed tears. Filled with sadness and thankfulness, pain and joy, sorrow and happiness. We are sad 19 children will never be able to become their dreams, we are happy we are still here to dream, and as we stand there, as I stand there I promise myself ‘Ben, don’t take anything for granted. Each day is special and a blessing. Each person that i cross paths with is a human with dreams of their own. Tomorrow is not here yet let my today be an impact on me, and me an impact on the world.”