he is NOT one of us
27 August 2023
Today will mark the three year anniversary for the sentencing of New Zealand's worst terrorist, and the biggest mass murderer in our history. Those killings are now sadly recalled as "The Christchurch Mosque Shootings".
Fifty one people lost their lives that day and many more were injured. Families were destroyed by loss, trauma, grief and for some there was a financial loss almost as hard to bare as the life of their loved one. "19 minutes of terror", was one headline. 19 minutes took away thousands of years of human life and thousands more to come.
On that terrible day, Friday 15 March 2019, I lost a lifelong friend of over 35 years. My heart was broken so badly when I found out that she had died, I could barely breath. I could hardly grieve, the shock was so appalling. I could not even begin to imagine how such a terrible thing could have happened to one of my most liveliest and colourful friends. A woman who was not just a best friend, a weird sister, a naughty aunty to all my sons, but someone brave and kind, loyal, generous and who gave her whole heart to every worthy cause she took on, a dedicated and loving mother, a doting Nana.
I no longer adhere to that cliched saying, "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger". In overpoweringly destructive times - life is a bitch who laughs on sunny days when she should be hiding away and minding her own business. Life is unfair. Shite happens to everyone and often happens more than once.
Sadly, we can not unwind time, or bullets, other people's choices, the universe, or make God change things because we don't want to be unhappy or feel gut wrenching pain for days, weeks and years after some traumatic event in life. Life is sad, and the sudden tragic loss of someone close to you will forever leave a limp in your spirit, an empty space in your heart that was once filled with the love and irrepressible joy of a precious friend. This is acceptance, not of death but of living in an unpredictable world filled with disappointment and pain, alongside broken and sometimes dangerous people.
"he is NOT one of us," Linda's nephew, Kyron, shouted from the witness box in the Christchurch high court, pointing angrily at the one who stole our darling from us. Linda, was "one of us" to many people, but she was also one of mine.
I will forever be unable to go "gently into that dark night". I will forever rage against the dying light, crying on the other side when morning comes. And I know every morning comes softly and new, promising mercies, bringing hope for a new day. But without warning, I lost one of my best friends and all the mercy in the world will never take that away.
I know I sound bitter and more than a bit angry especially from one who believes with my whole heart that mercy is new every morning, and the God of grace holds the whole world in both of his hands. I just think it's important to be raw and messy every now and then, to leave our dirty footprints on the world and rubbish lying around the lawn for earnest friends to trip over.
As a society, we all to often sugar coat the tough stuff but rage against the inconsequential, the unnecessary. We let in the little foxes that spoil and gnaw away at our vines. And I often wonder, why can't we scream in public?
"he is NOT one of us!" Well done, Kyron. Were there ever six words more damning and designed to reject someone from humanity and the very society that he tried to destroy? The video of that impassioned and eloquent speech went viral, as it bloody well deserved to. Once upon a time, this mass murderer would have been publicly hung in the town square as a deterrent to other would be murderers. Once upon a time we didn't have mass murderers and serial killers.
In my father's day it was perfectly acceptable to punch someone in the nose who was being insulting to women, causing a disturbance in public or was generally being a dick. It was socially acceptable to shout over the fence at your neighbour's when their kids were being little brats, so long as you kept the swear words to a minimum in front of the children. Nobody used the f-word. No one was ever that angry. These days the f-word is an adjective. God help us.
So if I sound a bit angry, a tad overwrought with grief, it's because I am. I probably always will be sad that I lost my friend that morning and it was just 15 days before my birthday. How could I celebrate when I had so much to mourn. I didn't celebrate. I went to the beach and shared a toffee apple muffin with a seagull who I thought might possibly be Linda, reincarnated. My dog, Pacino ran away. (he did come back)
I still choke up when I see her laughing happy face in all the photos that I have of her. The cheekiest grin that looks like she'd just told a dirty joke at the family dinner table. I cry unexpectedly at night, I am crying now.
That killer will never be one of us.
But Linda will always be one of mine, so I guess that will have to be mercy enough for me, and grace for that terrible day when I lost her.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eVMrY8L3rJk
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