When a tragedy strikes home

I sat on my computer in the newsroom, with my childhood friend’s face staring back at me, the first time I had seen it practically since the 8th grade. There he was dead at 25, one of 49 who died during the assault of the Pulse gay nightclub in Orlando this weekend.

It was a lot to take. I closed my eyes and my mind wandered. I last saw him laughing and walking down the hallway on the 8th grade hall with his parents as we left our middle school graduation ceremony. That too was an emotional moment. Friends said goodbye and the excitement of high school hung near. Tevin Crosby and I had a brief nod to each and parted ways, rarely seeing him again, unfortunately, until this weekend.