It has been three weeks exactly since The Bridge.
Oddly, it has been a repellant for me. I haven't wanted anything to do with it or be anywhere near it. Handsome Randy and I were en route to our house a couple of days ago & he went the longest way just so we could drive near the it. My stomach turned as we drove over an overpass and saw the buckled concrete in the distance. Really, truly turned.
But he can't stay away. He has been home for just over a week and has probably gone to the area 7 or 8 or six times. A few minutes ago I called him & he was on his way there again. "I have a few minutes to kill, so I thought i'd head down there." I don't get it.
The thought of going there has made me wanna throw up. The carnage, the lives lost and altered, the horror we all felt that day.And it just hits a little too close. I drove over that bridge maybe 30 minutes before it went down. Had HR not been in town it would have been later. I drove over that bridge all the time. 4+ days a week.
Early this morning the last body was pulled from the wreckage. This means that the nearby bridges will be opening up soon. Bridge #9 is a pedestrian bridge quite close to the site. HR and I rode our bikes down there this afternoon. I intitially was a bit wobbly as made our way across. I just didn't want to see it. But then as I looked over it wasn't so hard, I grew fascintated and snapped some photos. I grew teary as I thought of our friend who was injured and of those who lost people they love.
We stood there and stared quietly. About 20 others were on bridge #9 with us & when word were spoken they seemed to be in hushed tones.
shh, we have to be quiet.
After a while a man approached us naming an intersection near our house asking if we lived there. He was a somalian immigrant who owns the gas station at that intersection and recognized us from getting gas there. We talked about our friend, he talked about his friend who lost his wife, their 22 month old daughter and a baby that was expected to arrive in coming months. He pointed out how ironic it was that his friend's wife came to Minneapolis from an impoverished war torn country having survived a bloody, violent time only to die in a bridge collapse in the world's wealthiest country.