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  • Holly Winter Huppert

YOUR Love Died in Orlando



Dear (Insert your name here….) :

I’m sorry to inform you of the death of your loved one in Orlando, Florida last weekend. There was a terrorist attack: a hate crime. 49 people died; your love was one of them. I know you thought you didn’t know anyone at the event. But you did.

Your love was there. That one you waited your whole life to meet. The one that got you laughing again. That one person who you felt completed you. You encouraged your love to go out dancing with the Orlando crowd to take a work break and have some fun. You got a text and a photo from the club, your love dancing with friends and laughing with martini in hand.

You’ve had a loving relationship these past years and I knew you were both planning on spending the rest of your lives together.

But that has all changed.

Your love died in the attack. Alone. Without you there. Your love was terrified when the shots ran out and everyone was running for cover. Your love thought of you and prayed for more time with you. A simple prayer, time.

I’m sorry to tell you, that prayer wasn’t answered.

The death of your love has left a hole in your life. Your love is … gone? You feel like a limb has been removed from your body; everything hurts. Your body has shut down; you are beyond tears or anger. You are numb. You are alone. You are without your love. You love is gone, forever.

Your parents are sick with anger over this happening, this untimely separation. Your children are tortured over this loss and dealing with survivor’s guilt. Your children wish they were there to die with your love. You must put them on suicide watch. Your siblings keep apologizing, as if that changes anything.

Your love’s family is blaming you: if you had been there you could have intervened. You know they are hurting, too. But if they could just cry with you instead of pointing a finger it would help.

Just when things were going so well, how could this happen?

Your friends are depressed over this wrongful death. Your best friend from college is looking into lodging a lawsuit and keeps telling you that you may as well be rich while you’re depressed. You shoo him away, again and again.

The suffering will not go away, ever. Time will never heal this wound. But one day you will get used to it, this subtraction ripped from your soul. You will learn to cry on the inside while you pretend to live.

Please accept the condolences from all of us here on earth. It’s with great relief that we note how lucky we were that it wasn’t our love. It was your love. Just yours.

Again. Sorry for your loss.

From,

The Rest of Us on Earth

PS. This attack happened to each of us, all of us. It was our family, it was our friend, it was our child, it was our love.

You can’t hurt one/some without hurting the rest of us.

Please be brave and feel the pain of this attack. Feel it deep inside of you. Then go out in the world and show kindness. More kindness. Greet that person you don’t like. Connect with someone from your past. Hug your neighbor’s children.

We are all suffering. Now we must all love in return. That’s the only way to regain our balance.

Love. Now.

Book for Writers: Write Now: Ideas for Writers | Holly Winter

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