By Sharon Díaz
La Tertulia 49 I woke up from a nightmare….a dreadful nightmare. I saw his face one afternoon, I greeted him as his smile reminded me of the impact a teacher can have in someone else’s life, perhaps we never realize how losing a cherished heart will forever leave an open wound, waiting to heal. I asked him “So nice to see you Simon!”, “Hello Miss! I’m ready for graduation!”, “I’m so happy for you!” “Va a estar allí, ¿verdad?”, “Of course, why wouldn’t I?”. I walked away, one last time I turned my back, I glanced back at him and he waved his last goodbye. I would’ve never thought, not once in a million years, that one of my birds, carefully designed, perfected, intellectually seeded and grown and formed by my hands momentarily, ….would fly away from this world unexpectedly, as quick as thin air leaves a soul. Perhaps, this world is not for us to bleak upon, perhaps there are only a privileged kind, chosen to gracefully lighten up obscure days upon us. I went back to my office, I felt so proud of all battles he and many others have won, against odds, against society’s biased hatred and confusion. Between love and forgiveness, Simon won, I am sure he won with colossal delight and dignity. Pulse…our home, my home. Many nights of peace, love, friendship, kindness, music subliminally entwining us to dance, obliterating all traces of judgement; Pulse was the only place angels disregarded colors, religions, sexual preferences…none of these were existent. We just danced, without fears, our spirits felt perpetual. June 11th, 2016: I brimmed the day; we had dinner, we went to the movies. Unexpectedly, my pulse longed for one night, of paradise in Athens. I could not resist the urge, as I looked at her face, her eyes presume the love we have for each other. Those sweet eyes, always looking at me with confidence, and forgiveness. I thought ,it is the perfect timing, let's dance the night away, my love. I texted my flower friend, Laura. "Hey, let's go to Pulse", "ok". As we walked to the car, we recalled all the wondrous nights we have had in our home, with friends, family, even foes. I still remember, the last trip I made with my mother to Orlando, before she passed away, a year later. On one of those nights, my brother took me and my sister to PULSE Nightclub; "oh the music! The people dancing! The queens performing their ballads! How much love I can breathe!"; these were my sister's remarks. We arrived home by 4:00am, my parents were asleep, but my brother, my sister and I kept dancing around the living room fooling around with his pink corset, his husband's tiara and his feather boa...the energy filled us, completely. Years later, I could still felt the love emerging, nothing had changed. June 11th midnight: We sat in the car, drove away. As we stopped on the red light, my stomach knotted, I felt as the unimaginable would happen, a sense of awareness. She kept driving, took the highway and arrived at Paramore St. Laura texted me back "hey, I think it's too late, there are no chairs at this time". We kept driving around, we arrived at Church street. June 12th 12:30 am: We drove by PULSE...the music was loud, and only cheerful, ecstatic faces were coming in and out the club. "Hey, I'm hungry, should we stop by IHOP first? We can grab something to eat and then come back", "good idea". Call it fate or déjà vu, something told me this was not the night to feed our urge of dancing. Laura texted me again, "listen, something don't feel right, rain check me for tomorrow". Laura, one of many of my life's guardian angels, confidant and dare to say, alter ego, shook up even more this feeling of uncertainty. "Baby, let's go home, let's come back tomorrow. Sundays are more mellow" , "yeah, let's go home". We fell asleep. The moon was full, I felt it trembling on the unexpected dark timeline about to happen in a couple of hours. Nemir Matos Cintrón reads her poem "Pulse Orlando".
June 12th 7:30am: Text messages became our alarm for the day., we did not answer, an hour has passed...my sister called, I answered "are you guys ok? Why haven't you call us? We were worried sick!", "but, why? What's wrong?" "didn’t you post last night you were going to PULSE?" "well, yes...”, "then, watch the news!!". I jumped from my bed, I turned on the TV...
Only darkness and fear...is all I could see..."Iliana!!!!" We were in awe...our hearts shattered in uncountable pieces...I grabbed my phone, my hand was shaking uncontrollably, 15 unread text messages to be exact. My dear friend Antonio...three unread text messages...Laura, 4 unread text messages, my brother, 6 unread text messages, my dad, my sister, my aunt, my mother in law, my sister in law...the list of many loved ones' unanswered texts... "We are ok", I had no words...nothing else I could say...but "we are ok". Five hours later, the list of victims and wounded showed up... One name..."No! It cannot be! Simon, there is one Simon! Last name, what's the last name! Carrillo! No!" A sudden instant pain got ahold of me...I could not grab the chair, I felt I was living a nightmare from which I couldn't wake up. Everything around me suddenly paused. They say our life's precious moments will replay in your head on your last breath of life, but for me my first replay moment happened on June 12..."estará en mi graduación, ¿verdad?" "of course, why wouldn't I Simon?" Once again, he waved goodbye. I'm sorry Simon! I'm sorry for destiny's foul play, I'm sorry it took your bright future away, I'm sorry your family couldn't see your graduation day, I'm sorry for the pain, suffering, and agony you went through those last hours. Orlando and my community will never be the same again. This attack shook our soul, a year later it is still remembered. Against all odds we became stronger and our purpose now is to bring awareness of our presence, we are here and we will fight. The warriors and soldiers of this battle are the writers, artists, teachers, politicians, college students among many others; these are the harvesters, planting the seed of love and acceptance in our future generation. Sharon Diaz reads her poem "Scarlet and P.U.L.S.E."
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