"Everybody here misses you...
especially me.
" Fifteen years ago, this was written to me by my friend, Travis.
I was lying in a hospital bed, eyes blinded, body bludgeoned, clinging to life...
and sanity.
Those few words exorcised the sinister fears that ate at my mind and confidence.
Travis and I became friends living on the 8th floor of the New Hall dorm on the campus of Missouri State the day I moved in.
Though we'd only known each other for a month, and 19 year old dudes aren't famous for their prose, Travis' words lifted me when nothing much else could.
See, even as a hurt teenager, I knew how fast-paced the world was (and continues to be).
Today's tragedy is tomorrow's afterthought.
There's always something new and more horrible to steal the spotlight.
I guess we can thank 24 hour cable news for that.
I knew my friends lives were still moving forward - but I didn't want to be left behind, or forgotten about.
Last week, a decade and a half later, I wrote to Travis and reiterated what those words meant to me and why.
And then, I tried to reassure him that "this" would be remembered, too.
For the last 10 years, Travis has been a police officer in Kirkwood, Missouri.
I moved to Kirkwood in 2002, excited to know there'd be at least one cop keeping an extra watch on me and my house.
Two weeks ago, an armed gunman walked into a Kirkwood city council meeting and started shooting.
A few seconds later, six people lay dead, including two of Travis' fellow Kirkwood police officers.
While he wasn't in the room at the time, as soon as the all clear was given, Travis was in the thick of it.
His first task was to flip over everyone who was laying face down on the floor.
Who's alive? Who's hurt? ...
and who's dead? Six people dead.
Another friend of mine, Mayor Mike Swoboda, critically injured by a gunshot to the head.
The quintessential quiet, peaceful American suburb turned inside out.
And everyone left asking the unanswerable question, "Why?" We are so inundated with tragedy, aren't we? Blood, guts and gore are commonplace on the nightly news.
There are so many horrible events in the world, and the news producers know that if it bleeds, it leads.
Thus, more and more deadly events are flashed in front of our faces.
We watch in shock and horror and shake our heads, and maybe hug our loved ones for a moment.
And then we do what we have to do - we move on.
And what about yesterday's tragedy? There's always a new one to replace it...
but the tragic loss of life isn't so easily forgotten by those who experience it.
None of the families of the six dead will ever have a birthday that's the same.
Or an anniversary.
Or a graduation.
Or a holiday.
We forget tragedies so quickly - but the ones who live them don't have that luxury.
There are widows and widowers in Kirkwood who are probably still numb.
They've been distracted by funeral preparations, sympathy heaped upon them, media coverage and family visits.
But when the get well parade is over? Their loved one is still dead.
That can't be changed, but we all can help to be sure those memories continue.
Friends, this is close to my heart.
Even now, almost a year since I relocated to Florida, Kirkwood still feels like home.
So yes, this is personal to me.
But please, please take what you can from this for your own life.
It doesn't have to be a tragedy of this magnitude to rattle the cages of memory.
Just don't forget...
if you know people who've lost loved ones, especially from a tragic way, just keep those survivors embraced in the arms of love.
And don't forget: memories are all we have to hold.