On the one-year anniversary of the Navy Yard shooting, my thoughts and prayers are with the victims and their families. My husband worked in the building where the shootings occurred, but that day, he was on the way there when he stopped to help the first victim. Written last year, this post offers a personal reflection of that terrible day.
When the radio announcer reported that people had been shot at the NAVSEA building in Washington, D.C.’s Navy Yard, I felt a pit in stomach. My husband works there.
I looked at the time, wondering if he was already at work. I tried to get ahold of myself. “Perhaps he had not arrived,” I hoped. Noticing a couple voice mail messages, I pressed the play button.
The Navy Yard was roped off, his message said, so he was coming home. My calls to him were unsuccessful. I did not know where he was. I called a friend, recalling the times I had gone through the security gate to pick up my husband from work or take my girls to summer camp at the Naval Museum. I have always felt safe on…
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