You’ll never forget where you were. You won’t forget how the phone lines jammed and how you waited to hear if your people were safe.
You won’t forget what the streets looked like as they were covered in confetti and blood and in celebratory posters and the shoes lost from those who ran away from the wreckage. You won’t forget searching through crowds or photos to find your loved ones.
You won’t forget what it felt like to be so confused, so utterly terrified, and so helpless. You won’t forget the sirens or the smells or the screams or the tears.
But you know what? You also won’t forget how the very worst in some people brought out the very best in others.
You won’t forget how people ran toward the terror to help. You won’t forget the faces of the first responders or the good samaritans. You won’t forget the donations that streamed in for the victims, the calls to action, and the collective experience of trauma.
You won’t forget the skill of the doctors and nurses who cared for the wounded, and you won’t forget the way your city came together during a time of great need.
You won’t forget how collectively you decided not to let the bad guys win. That as a city, you decided they would not steal your grit or your joy. You won’t forget February 14, 2024, just like we will never forget April 15, 2013.
As mothers, the call to action is this: grieve. Remain furious. Do what you can, with what you have. Shout loud from the rooftops that this is not OK… that it was NEVER OK.
But that you will take all of Kansas City into your arms, as mothers do, and that at next year’s parade (because the dynasty lives on), you’ll hold each other close and cheer louder than ever.
The bad guys won’t win, but the Chiefs will.
