There is so much news coming at us on a regular basis, whether about the devastation in the Philippines, or a senseless crime against innocents. Sometimes it's easier to tune out, or absorb the horror but attempt a quick psychological exit so as to not become too overwhelmed.
Last week, I traveled to Los Angeles on business. Because of the tragic shooting and killing of a TSA agent only a day before, our morning flight was canceled. After finally being booked for late afternoon departure, we were then delayed three times, eventually leaving Seattle around 7p.
Last week, I traveled to Los Angeles on business. Because of the tragic shooting and killing of a TSA agent only a day before, our morning flight was canceled. After finally being booked for late afternoon departure, we were then delayed three times, eventually leaving Seattle around 7p.
Once we landed, the reminder of what had occurred on November 1 hit us immediately, as brilliant 100-ft lighted pylons lit the night in hounour of TSA Officer Gerardo Hernandez. Passengers disembarked from the plane and quietly walked through Terminal 3 to meet loved ones, retrieve baggage, or grab transportation to their ultimate destination.
When we returned to the same terminal for our flight back to Seattle, we again solemnly took in this scene, as well as the makeshift memorial just inside the terminal doors. There was a moment where I wanted to take a photo of it with my smartphone, but it somehow felt too intrusive, too trite. With a heavy heart, we walked past a female TSA agent standing nearby. Our eyes locked and immediately watered. She quietly nodded, as I took the escalator up to the gate. The poignant reminder was that of a loved one who left home for work that day and never returned, a fear many of us carry daily.
When we returned to the same terminal for our flight back to Seattle, we again solemnly took in this scene, as well as the makeshift memorial just inside the terminal doors. There was a moment where I wanted to take a photo of it with my smartphone, but it somehow felt too intrusive, too trite. With a heavy heart, we walked past a female TSA agent standing nearby. Our eyes locked and immediately watered. She quietly nodded, as I took the escalator up to the gate. The poignant reminder was that of a loved one who left home for work that day and never returned, a fear many of us carry daily.
It was disturbing to read in today's news that Hernandez lay bleeding for 33 minutes without medical attention whilst paramedics stood ready to assist a mere 150 feet away. When authorities finally went to his aid after helping other wounded victims, an airport police officer thought he detected a light pulse and immediately wheeled Hernandez out to paramedics. Killed a week before his 40th birthday, this was someone's father, husband, son, and friend. I can't shake the feeling that he deserved better, and might have survived if he was seen as a human being and life worth saving versus collateral from the scene of a shooting. I shudder to think if that had been my husband -- alone, thinking about us, and taking stock of his life as his final moments faded away.
May you rest in peace, Gerardo.
May you rest in peace, Gerardo.
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