Arriving at the Pulse Nightclub
I’m not sure what I expected to see as we circled the block at Orange Avenue and Esther Street. This part of Orlando is not particularly beautiful, and is certainly not accustomed to any degree of tourism. We passed a Dunkin’ Donuts and a Radio Shack. Tiffany looked for parking while I wondered if it was even appropriate to visit the Pulse Nightclub so soon after the tragedy.
We went to Florida in November for some of the more glamorous attractions, like Harry Potter world, NFL football, and the Everglades. But I knew that we would be near Orlando, and I couldn’t shake the impulse to go to ground zero. I wanted to plant my own two feet on the ground where America’s worst hate crime had taken place.
Pilgrimage is a funny thing. That desire to see something with your own eyes. The spiritual power that a place can hold. The wonder of how visiting a sacred place might change you.
A Makeshift Memorial
We walked into a parking lot covered in sharpie and poster paper. Relics of a heartbroken community determined to be strong had been placed in every available space. The simplicity of the construction paper and duct tape drove home the reality that the lives lost were friends, brothers, and co-workers. Normal people. 49 funerals full of 49 room fulls of grieving people had taken place. The feeling of the wide impact was heavy.
My sweaty hand gripped Tiffany’s, and I wept as we slowly walked along the fence line that blocked access to the actual building. Notes from friends and family members, unplanned mementos from visitors around the world, and a unified message of strength and resilience filled the makeshift memorial.
It was painful to be there. Haunting to know that so many people were murdered for being at a gay club. For being in a place that was supposed to be safe. Beyond the fences, looking onto the dark wall of the club, you could almost feel the trauma of the survivors.
After about 20 or 30 minutes, it felt like we were lingering. A few other visitors had arrived, and there was only so much to see in the small parking lot. I wiped the tears and snot away, and then took a few photos before we returned to the rental car. When we got back into the car, I told Tiffany I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.
A Lesson in Refusing Hatred
Being at the Pulse Nightclub reminded me to tell my wife I love her every day, to cherish our freedom, and to enjoy the time we have together. The world is changing in our favor, but slowly. We have been yelled at for being gay, turned out by once-close friends, and been in countless situations where we decided it would be better to pretend not to be in love.
The legacy of what happened at the Pulse Nightclub on June 12, 2016 is not hate. The legacy of what happened in this place is the strength, resilience, love and compassion that continue to follow.
Be good to the ones you love, celebrate who they are, and embrace the things they can teach you. Be kind to one another, and be brave.
Also, love wins, so be a winner.
