They moved in together in February 2007 after their sister was born. They slept each night, no more than 5 feet apart and that changed when our oldest moved out in January 2021. Being roommates for that many years had its fair share of pushing, shoving, and shouting - yet each night – no more than 5 feet apart, they always found a way to peacefully doze off and dream about the great things that would happen in their lives. They grew and matured as so many do, our oldest had moved out, they celebrated their independence (and increased personal space) and I wondered if they would ever want to be that close, in proximity, again.
In September 2022 they both moved away, into their own version of “home”, and the Green and White of Michigan State’s campus had them more than 5 feet apart, yet they’d found a way to be in the same city, on the same campus, and within walking distance of each other.
On February 13th – shots rang out. My wife and I sat helpless, at the home we’d built together, the home where our boys slept no more than 5 feet apart for 13 years, and we did our level best to remain calm as texts about SWAT teams, helicopters, active shooters, barricaded apartments, and dorm rooms took center stage.
On February 14th – our blessings were realized. They were safe, they were alive, and not every family on campus could say the same, which turned my feelings of joy into an indescribable pain, as I tried to fathom the grief and pain those families were forced to endure. I was blessed to know my boys were okay and the questions flooded my mind. How do we keep the sanctity of that place? How does this campus, which our boys now refer to as “home” ever feel normal?
My Freshman wanted to be home on Monday night, so after the “all clear” he made it home and we grieved with him Monday night and Tuesday morning about the horror he had experienced, which culminated in the knowledge that one of his friends lost his life during this despicable time. How do we explain that unnecessary loss?
The evening of the 14th we went back to campus, together, as a family. We drove from Dearborn, quietly to East Lansing, so that all 5 of us could hug, celebrate life, mourn unnecessary death, and try to make sense out of all of it.
My Junior wanted to remain on campus and grieve his way, so the texts and calls were on the hour. We made it to the parking lot of the apartment building and our Junior turned the corner from his apartment to meet us, we saw each other for the first time since the text came in about “shooter on campus”, our eyes met, the tears poured.
I jumped out of my car and as a Father, I’m supposed to protect them, yet – it was my Junior who grabbed me, hugged me, and said, “I’m going to be okay Dad”. As we wept, I want you to know that this hug isn’t the hug I’m writing about.
“I’m going to be okay Dad” was followed up with “Where’s my brother?”. At the exact time of his question, his brother jumped from the back seat of our car. They didn’t speak- they cried- and they hugged & embraced in a way I had never seen two people hug before.
This was the hug of fortunate circumstances and resilience, a hug of relief, of decompression, and a hug between two people who had been through something unimaginable, yet so frequent in their lifetime.
How will this ever be normal again? It won’t. This has forever changed them and thousands of others, so if I stretch to find any beauty in this horrid situation, my beauty comes from the boys, now men, who grew up no more than 5 feet apart and in the aftermath of something so traumatic, they found each other- they didn’t need words- they needed to be no more than 5 feet apart. It was this hug that starts their healing journey and will forever inspire me.
God bless the lives lost- and may God send peace to all of you.
Much love- Trav
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