Dear Humboldt,
We wish we knew what to say.
We wish there were magic words that could somehow make this all make sense, that could bring peace and healing to a community torn apart by grief and loss.
There are no such words.
So we’re doing the very, very little that we can to show you that you’re in our thoughts and in our hearts.
We’re wearing our jerseys. We’re putting our hockey sticks out on our porches. We’re lighting candles and saying prayers.
We’re standing shoulder to shoulder with our family members, our teammates, our colleagues to pay tribute to the 16 lives that were lost in that one tragic accident – and to those loved ones who now have to figure out how to pick up the pieces of their lives and carry on.
We’re thinking of you all.
We didn’t know these young men whose futures were so bright.
We don’t know the mothers and fathers who sent them off on the team bus to play the sport they loved – and who couldn’t, in their worst dreams, have imagined they would never see those sons again.
We don’t know the ripples these deaths have sent, and will continue to send, through your community. How many plans have been halted. How many tears have been shed. How many hearts have been broken. How many lives have been irrevocably, cruelly changed.
We only know that fate can be volatile. That in another place, on another day, these could have been our sons, our brothers, our neighbours and teammates and friends.
So we cry with you. And we send our photos and tweets and Facebook messages out into the universe in the hopes that somehow, some way, our collective love and support will ease your grief, just a little.
We don’t know you, Humboldt.
But right now, we are all here for you.
Love,
Canada
#HumboldtStrong
