I could have done so much more (John Williams)
I knew something was wrong when I was shaving and then suddenly found myself, I don't know how, on the floor and I saw my bodyguard was shaking me and shouting my name. I cut my forehead when I fell and hit the sink, but I had a terrible feeling that had nothing to do with me. Something had happened, I was sure about it. Unfortunately, I wasn't wrong.
It was a mall. Not an Embassy, nor the Parliament. A simple mall. Full of Young people who go there to have fun, families who take their children to the cinema or shopping. Using simple pool disinfectant, somebody created a bomb which they placed inside of a trash can near the elevators.
Seven people were killed. Three woman, two men and two children aged three and seven. Thirty wounded of different gravity. A twenty year-old girl lost a leg.
The One World Nation Movement attributed the attack. It was a way to put pressure on my government to cause their resignation. My president called me to tell me I could be calm, none of them thought of doing so. They were not going to give in to that bunch of terrorists.
I visited the wounded at the hospital, I also assisted the collective funeral. It was there when I met her.
It was a let's say chubby woman, who wore sunglasses and a grey coat. By her side was an older woman who didn't move away from her, I think she was her mother.
The protocol was simple. My boss explained it to me, he used it all the time: you approach, say you are sorry about their loss, say you are there for everything they might need. Then you go back home and try to have a peaceful time. Some of them are so disorientated, so hurt they don't understand a thing, or don't seem to understand. I felt like a real jerk saying those things.
That lady didn't listen to what I had to say to her. The woman by her side nodded with grief, but she...I could see a frown and her eyes judging me behind those sunglasses. A throat which went up and down, with so many things to say clogged inside. She had lost her husband and her child in the attack. They were heading to a candy shop when the bomb exploded, while she was looking at clothes in a fashion shop. She couldn't even suspect the next time she would see them would be in a room where they had joined the pieces together.
What could I say to her? Why did they have to die? For me?
At first I only felt a lump in my throat which prevented me from continuing with the formal condolences. Then I couldn't help some tears from start showing.
Eventually, I placed my hands on the shoulders of that woman.
"I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...They didn't have to die...Nobody should have had to die for me...If I had done something worth it...If...I had been a role model...N-None of this would have happened...You wouldn't have had to pay the consequences...Ev-Everytime I make a mistake it is you who have to...to...I'm sorry...You should eliminate me...You should all let me die...That way...That way you'd live in peaceā¦"
The widow in front of me had all right to slap me, shout at me. Instead of that, she placed her hands on my cheeks. Tears filtered through the gaps in her sunglasses. And finally letting the tears come out, she hugged me. I held her tight and cried. I cried as if she was my mother and those she had buried were my father and my little brother. I cried hoarsely because the people who had died were my own children.
I felt lots of hands touching me. Caressing my hair, placed on my shoulders, rubbing my back. The woman who accompanied the lady, whimpering, hugged us both. Somebody wrapped their arms around me and placed their head on my shoulder. I didn't hear a single voice. Just felt the warmth of the people present.
I hope they felt mine.
