It's hard to believe it's been a few years since I've posted a new blog, but I'm feeling like I need a place to release the inner demons that have been circling just in time for Halloween. So much has happened since I last posted. Retired from LL Bean after 27 years. Started working for Beacon Hospice as an intake receptionist in Auburn. Got transferred to the Augusta office, took a new job that's starts on Monday that has me working from home and I start vacation on Tuesday.
My youngest graduated from high school and is working full time as a mechanic in a local auto shop. His father joined him recently, so they get to carpool! I'm not convinced that's for the best on some days... Christopher like to sleep to the last minute and his father likes to get to work early... some days they get there just when they need to punch in!
This past Wednesday we had a Halloween party at the Auburn office - where I'm spending the last few days before going remote. Halloween music including Monster Mash and other classic at one point evolved into a conga line (thank you Beetlejuice.) We had eyeball pong, spider ring toss and pin the wound on the hospice works (butterflies in the stomach included.) Food and drinks and guessing the amount of candy corn in the jar had everyone in a happy mood that afternoon.
I got home, shared a quiet dinner with my boys, then was reading in bad when my phone went off. In an instance, everything changed. An emergency alert cut through the silence that had descended upon our house. And I turned the tv on to watch the horror unfold. Facebook was blowing up. People were posting all sorts of information - some good, some bad - it was hard to decide what to believe. Someone had gone into two buildings and opened fire on people gathered to have an evening of fun. I know these locations; one was on my route to and from work. I had just driven past it three hours earlier, not even giving the location a second glance. Now the bar is all over the news, road blocked around it, police blocking the driveway entrance, camera men perched at the top of the hill, their cameras pointing down to it, non-stop. Just waiting for any bit of information.
The local tv stations started covering pieces of the story. Some were at the bowling alley, some at the bar, others at one of the local trauma centers. The area went into a shelter in place order. Then the helicopters started flying overhead. Minutes marched on into hours. I'd scroll through Facebook posts from friends in the area. Got up and slid the deadbolt locks into place on all of the doors. Went back to bed to repeat tv news, scrolling through Facebook posts, watching schools and businesses post that they would be closed. At two am I turned off the television, with it off the fly-bys from the helicopter were just that much louder. I tossed and turned. My phone chirped, waking me up. Needless e-mail drops. Tried to sleep again, and again the phone went off. So much for sleeping. I turned my phone to silent, maybe that would help.
Three hours later my alarm went off. With the shelter in place order in effect, and roads blocked in my town as it was where they found the gunman's car, I didn't think I was going to work. I wasn't alone. Hannaford groceries closed statewide, L.L.Bean closed for the day, all locations and my town was now a ghost town. It felt like the first day of the Covid pandemic lockdown, only scarier. This time police were everywhere. Maine was the lead story on the national news - for the worst reason ever. We were the location of the largest mass shooting of the year. Eighteen dead, 13 more injured and a gunman still on the loose. Maine - home of what we felt was the safest place in the nation. Statistics even backed the claim. We are also one of the most armed states - most people in Maine own at least one gun, if not many. Yet in less than twelve minutes, that feeling of safety was stripped away. Last year - the entire year - we had 29 murders. In twelve minutes, we rocketed to the biggest mass shooting in the nation this year. It seems unbelievable.
My work was closed. The boys wanted to go to work, but with the roads blocked, I convinced my husband to call out for the day. Christopher came out of his bedroom around 8am wondering why they weren't going to work. We spent much of the day listening to the sound of the helicopters overhead and waiting for any piece of news about finding the gunman. The news was non-stop coverage, much of it simply on repeat - reminding us over and over again of the little we knew already. Eight of the dead had been identified, ten were waiting to be identified. A drone flew over the bar as body bag after body bag was removed on stretcher after stretcher. And we continued to wait.
Posts of marking ourselves safe seemed mundane in the midst of the horror unfolding around us. Yet, as we posted - friends were relieved to find out about our safety. It seemed so unfair. After too many hours of never-ending news coverage - I had to shut it off. People still new very little and craved more information. More police arrived from neighboring states, Federal agents arrived to help, Warden services were helping to canvas the area.
Then we thought there was a break, they surrounded his father's house thinking he might be there. I watched again, hopeful that the ordeal would end. Minutes ticked by as I watched tactical vehicles in the houses' driveway flash beams of light on the house. Again, reporters by the hundreds gathered on the hill to watch and wait for things to unfold. After a little more than an hour, they realized Card was not in the house. Another night he was out there. Another night of unease as he remained free. And his last know location was less the 2 miles from my house.
Exhaustion eventually took over and I slept, waking to another day of sheltering in place. The roads in town were open, but most businesses (including my office) were closed. People were posting where was the closest location to get medication, get diapers, get milk. The local store in town opened for limited hours. Most other businesses, except one gas station - which remained open during the whole ordeal - remained closed. One local pizza place opened in the middle of the night and had made food for the officers that were sweeping the area.
Through the bad, moments of togetherness started to break through. In the store, 2 Portland police officers went to get sandwiches and drinks for their officers. One of the town citizens saw and paid for the food. She had friends who had made it out of the bowling alley alive and was very grateful for the continued police presence. More than 350 officers from all over had come to support the local police. The thin blue line was widening here in Maine. Maine is a large state with so many close-knit communities, those were all coming together to support each other. Hearts in the profile of Maine where Lewiston sits started to pop up as profile photos for so many showing solidarity for those effected and directly impacted. Me included... just a tiny post to show we are all linked so close even in the distance that this state sometimes has.
Sitting here, typing this - those small gestures, people offering to help one another - makes us feel closer. Even while we are once again closed off in our own homes for safety. Waiting to hear anything that might bring this to a closure. It feels so heavy, the waiting. Once again, my phone starts to beep. Those almost dreaded sounds at this point. This time, different. They have found the gunman, and he is dead. A huge sigh of relief, yet still disbelieving it's all over. We can now start to heal. It will take a long time to get there. It will take all of us to get there. We are listening to the leaders of our state's law enforcement brief us on how they discovered him. But we can sleep knowing we can do so safely.
It's been the longest two and a half days that I can remember. And I'm old enough to remember many good and bad times. None have felt so close, so real, so unnerving. I continue to sit in a state of relief. I continue to want to hug my son tighter (much to his dismay) and have hope that positive moments start to build. It will be days, maybe weeks before some will recover from the feelings that have settled into their life. For the families that lost a loved one, 16 families - it will never be the same for them. I pray they find each day brings a little more hope - my deepest condolences can never be enough.
