Blessing in the Tragedy

I guess it’s my turn to write about Damar Hamlin, but in a way that relates to me and how I see the world.

What a horrifying event. Watching live TV as his body fell lifeless etched a memory in my psyche that will probably be there for the rest of my days. That’s what happens with trauma; the shock, then the scar.

As my wife and I watched in horror what was unfolding in front of us, our son came up from the basement to prepare for bed. He didn’t actually see what happened, he saw the aftermath — the ambulance, the players, the coaches, our faces. He heard in our voices what was happening was serious and frightening.

When we told him what occurred, he sat there and just listened. I’m not sure if he could really comprehend all of what was going on (or could he?). I mean how is a twelve year old mind affected as they witness an NFL player being given CPR to save their life. Aren’t they supposed to be invincible? His first comment caught me by surprise, perhaps because at the moment I wasn’t thinking about it — I wasn’t thinking about him. ‘I wonder how Tee Higgins is feeling.’ It was his hit after all, his normal everyday tackle that may have sparked the event that threw Damar into lifelessness. Such an empathetic question from such a young mind. I was wrong to think he wasn’t understanding, he got it. We all sat there wanting answers, waiting. We needed to see a response, a thumbs up, a head nod, a sign — something. We received no such thing and as with everyone else watching, we were left wondering, hoping, praying.

As we continued to wait and watch, I noticed something. Alongside this terrifying and tragic event, there was beauty in the form of humanity.

Millions of people immediately stopped what they were doing and we all collectively held our breath…hoping.

We saw the tens of thousands of people in the stadium stop, as if in suspended animation, and change their posture from battle cries to blessings. We watched as these athletic warriors lay down their shields and instead, threw their vulnerability in the arena. Their tears, their terror, their emotions, all laying there naked for the world to see. Whatever judgments, whatever smack-talk that would often pursue such a response was non-existent. No one cared. As a matter of fact, most of us were there alongside them in shock — crying, hoping, praying.

As strange as it sounds, It’s easy to forget these men are human. They’ve been so commercialized and idolized it’s as if our expectations of them seem to be other-wordly. Their conditioning is superior, their talents are elite, their strength, it may seem, is unmatched…until. Until life reminds us they’re only men. Men who cry. Men who fear. Men who suffer.

There’s this sense of macho that finds itself lurking around our planet, that we as men somehow are invincible, that we’re not supposed to be phased by anything and if we are, we must brush it off as if whatever happened didn’t have an impact. Well, that’s over now. Macho men feel, they cry, they choose life over competition. They choose empathy over expectations. They choose brotherhood.

At least that’s the way I see it.

To Damar and the Hamlin family, may you receive all the blessings that are being sent to you and may those blessings heal you…just as you healed us.