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Boston Strong

On the eve of the third anniversary of the horrific Boston Marathon attacks, I find myself drenched in emotion as strong as I did on April 15, 2013.
For all of my days, I will remember that day. The fear, anger, sadness, disgust, and ultimate resilience felt by myself as well as my fellow Bostonians flows through my veins tonight just as it did three years ago.
I find the date particularly striking. April 15th and Marathon Monday (not always April 15th), are both especially important days for me. My beloved grandfather was born on April 15, 1938, and my beautiful baby boy was born 70 years later on Marathon Monday (which happened to fall on April 21st the year my son was born).
As I sit in remembrance of what our city endured that April day on Boylston St, I’m struck not by the cowardly attacks so much as by how Boston and Bostonians alike reacted. Never once did our spirits falter. Yes, we were scared. But our strength outweighed our fear. We immediately came together, uniting our collective fighting spirit, showing the world what it meant to be Boston Strong.
When the cowards ran, we found them. Our city shut down and refused to accept the attacks sprung on us. We fought back. We “stayed in place” and allowed the brave men and women in law enforcement to apprehend the guilty party (the one who lived anyway) in Watertown.
The fact that this anniversary will forever fall on my grandfather’s birthday is quite soothing for me. Papa was Boston Strong before our city was. Despite suffering multiple strokes, heart attacks, and later living with (and ultimately succumbing to) COPD, he fought back. He fought hard and strong to live. He gifted our family with the best grandfather his grandchildren and great grandchildren alike could have dreamed of. He was so strong. He was Boston Strong. I can’t help but think his spirit inspired us all that fateful April day.

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