#dallasstrong

I've always been proud to be from Texas. While I will always call San Antonio home - Dallas has a piece of my heart.

Six years of my life have been spent in north Texas; half on the western side of the Metroplex, the other half on the side where the bright green lights on the Bank of America building are always visible.

(Not long after I moved to Dallas - this is part of the city's BIG campaign)

Thursday.

I didn't know what had happened in downtown right away. It took a message from a friend asking me if I was okay to know that someone was shooting in downtown, just a few miles from me.

My heart sank reading Twitter updates while getting ready for work. I knew it would be a long morning - far from the chaos in downtown, but still crazy. (I've never seen so many people in the newsroom with us all night long.) I couldn't think straight most of the night, but I had a job to do.

My coworkers went on air at 9pm Thursday. We didn't go off the air until 8am the next morning.

Friday.

I had to hold back tears several time at my desk Friday morning, as the number of officers killed continued to go up. I can't unsee the image of an officer face down on the ground, motionless next to a squad car. When we walked out of the control room at 8am, I finally let myself really cry. And that wasn't the last time.

I used to work in downtown Dallas. I walked all over the part of the city that's now a crime scene. The men and women who wear that Dallas Police badge are the same ones who held doors for me, said hello as I crossed the street, drove by and waved. And it broke my heart to hear Chief Brown say how much they needed our support.

I've never been prouder to live here. But I've been fortunate to see the unity and feel the change in the air just driving around. One person inflicted so much pain and heartbreak on us, but I know we will get through it. We're Texans - we're resilient.

And it's been amazing to see how the world is responding - several newsrooms sent my station food. My morning team even got a Starbucks gift card from our counterparts in San Antonio. It's been absolutely incredible.

When I left work, I didn't care that I hadn't slept. I had to do something, so I tried to give blood at city hall. I actually got turned away because the blood drive was almost over, but I did run into a DPD officer. I really wanted to give him a hug, but I made sure to say thank you.

I passed Dallas Police HQ on my way to city hall. This is what I found.

Saturday.

Just driving around downtown earlier reminded me this is still our city. We live here, we work here, we play here - and we love being here. No one can take that away.

It won't be long before downtown is busy again, with the sounds of life moving forward. Our hearts will heal, but they won't forget.

(taken next to DPD headquarters last summer)

#istandwithdallas #dallasstrong

On my heart, never off my mind

This blog has become an outlet for my pain, my heartache when the reality of the world becomes too much to hold inside. I'm a pretty emotional person, so to say the shootings in Orlando hurt is an understatement.

I doubt that I know anyone in the Orlando club shooting, but I have close friends in the area. I also have a number of LGBT friends. This is close to home.

I really started blogging after my best friend's murder in Aurora nearly four years ago, and in that time, I've written about at least three mass shootings. Those are just the ones I've written about - Sandy Hook was so emotionally draining from working that day that I couldn't write another word about it.

Then I read the death toll this morning. 50 people killed. 50 beautiful, innocent lives, taken in a burst of hate.

We ask "why?" over and over, but the answer has yet to be found. We get sad and angry, but then we forget until the next mass shooting. Trust me - those of us who are unfortunate card carrying members of the "I lost a loved one to gun violence" club, we do not forget.

I feel the pain of my own loss every time I see, write, or hear "mass shooting." My heart breaks for the families waiting to learn the worst, and the survivors who have to live with this tragedy in their own way. I wish I could say it gets better with time, but I'd have to say it depends on the day.

No one deserves any of this, and surely, we as a nation deserve better.

As I write this, one of my friends in Orlando just marked herself as safe on Facebook. While I'm thankful for her safety and the idea that prevents me from having to worry, I'm just sad this even has to exist.

Orlando, I love you. Your city is home to one of my favorite places to vacation in the world, and it's not lost on me that I was almost there this weekend. Instead, I was at the movies last night with my family - another place I've struggled to feel safe in since Jessica's death.

I'm praying for the city, the families, the friends, the first responders, and those who made it out. I'm also praying for those with hate on their hearts. The ignorance and the violence have to end. We live in what I still believe is the greatest country in the world, but our own hate has become our own undoing.

It's about love, not hate.

Two beautiful smiles, taken from this world just a few months apart.

The sweet little boy on the left is Noah Pozner. He should be celebrating his ninth birthday with his twin sister today. The sassy redhead on the right is my best friend, Jessi. She would've been 28 next week.

Instead, they're frozen in time as a 6-year-old and 24-year-old, as victims of gun violence in 2012.

But this post isn't about what happened to them in Newtown and Aurora. This is about how they're remembered three years after their deaths.

I never had the pleasure of meeting Noah, but his sister, Danielle, is now a friend of mine. This morning, she posted a message on Facebook calling for acts of kindness in his honor today. Of course, I'm happy to oblige. I'm hoping this post will inspire others to do the same.

Coincidentally, today marks one week to Jessi's birthday. Every year, I write a letter to her on this blog as my way of working through the pain that rears its ugly head every so often, especially around important dates such as November 27.

The year she was killed, I decided to put together a social media project in her honor called "Mustaches for Jessi". It was my way of honoring her memory (and love for mustaches and social media!) in a happy, creative way. So many people participated that year - and it brought me so much joy when I was hurting most.

Last year, I dropped the ball. And now that we've been able to close the door on what happened in Colorado with the ending of the trial this year, I've tried to put it away in my heart, but never forgotten her.

I broke out my mustache scarf today, just as my own personal reminder that she's still close to me in spirit. Then it occurred to me that her birthday is just around the corner - it snuck up on me, seeing as I can't even believe it's November.

So rather than push for mustaches all month, I decided to stick to just her birthday. This is where I ask for your help to make that happen.

If you're interested, all I'm asking for is your best mustache photo. It can be real, fake, a finger 'stache - whatever you want. I have a Twitter account set up (@Mustaches4Jessi) so I can share them with the world. I would rather the world remember her for something she loved, and not the moment that ended her life.

Because to be honest, I need to do something that's about love, not hate.

I spend so much of my workday writing about the hateful, awful moments in our world. Why not contribute to the beauty that we tend to forget? Noah and Jess were people we loved long before they were part of the headlines.

I hope you'll help me celebrate both of their lives.

Emily
@emehlee
@Mustaches4Jessi
#ily

Small victories.

I went to the movies today.

I can count on both hands how many times I've been to a theater over the last three years. It takes a lot to get me to go, because I'm nervous. I still have the occasional panic attack, like the one a few weeks ago. I thought I heard a gunshot on the midway at the State Fair. It was a game, but I still burst into tears.

But today was a big deal for me. Today was the first time I didn't panic in the theater.

I didn't look at the emergency exit. I didn't plan my escape route. I just let myself be. It took three years, but that's some major progress.

Don't get me wrong - this doesn't mean I'm fine and I'm going every week again. But it is a step towards healing, which is a process.

Anyway, I just felt this was a small victory that deserved some documentation and acknowledgment.

Remembering Roanoke

Someone pointed out recently how long it's been since I wrote a blog. What I woke up to this morning was enough to make want to cry, then pull out my laptop and just spill everything on my heart.

Two lives, taken by a gunman. 

Sadly, this is something I could've written for my newscast just about any day of the week. What made it sink in: they're in my business and this happened on live television.

Courtesy: Twitter

I didn't know Alison Parker or Adam Ward, but it wouldn't be a stretch to say I could have worked with them at some point in our careers. And this industry is so small, I knew I was bound to know someone who knew them. (I do.) Their lives were ended this morning by a man who used to work in TV himself.

I suspect this could be true of other businesses, but in TV, I promise you: we are family. You spend long hours with people who get to see everything about you - good, bad, and the ugly. You spend holidays together, you work in high stress situations, and you get to celebrate your big moments, like an exclusive interview - or heck, just free donuts in the newsroom. Sometimes they're your roommates, your drinking buddies, your best friends, or something more.

I sit in a control room five days a week and watch my reporters & photogs prepare to go live. I talk to them - sometimes we joke, sometimes we snap at each other, but there's an unspoken belief that you'll see each other again and that things will be fine. What happened this morning in Virginia is proof that is not guaranteed.

I've seen people yell at my coworkers, throw things at them - it's awful. And there's nothing I can do for them. I've even had to write a formal statement for police about what I saw from the control room as one of my reporters was assaulted. It's terrifying to feel so powerless. I can only imagine what it feels like for those in the field. 

I can't imagine being in that control room this morning. And in a few weeks, I will be that producer in the control room early in the morning. 

Adam, the photographer, was engaged to the morning show producer. Alison was in a relationship with another reporter. My heart breaks for both of them, especially because I know firsthand how it feels to lose someone you love to a gunman. (Coincidentally, the person who killed my best friend is also all over Twitter today because he was formally sentenced to life in prison.) 

If you've watched the video, I'm sorry. If you haven't, please don't watch - and please do not share it. Without knowing them, I can already promise you that Alison and Adam were more than what happens in that video. They deserve to be remembered for more than that. And their loved ones deserve not to have that moment thrown in their faces over and over again.

This is about Adam and Alison, the people who loved them, and the realization that at any moment, we (or someone we know) could be one of them... this is not about the person who ended their lives.

I wish I could walk into the WDBJ newsroom today and hug every single person there. I know I'm nobody, but that's my personality. This hurts me, and I wish there were something I could do for any of them. Instead, my heart is with them.. and maybe in some way, my words, thoughts, and prayers will be felt there. Television news is a small business, and they are like extended family. 

Courtesy: @visitvbr

This post also wasn't intended to forget Vicki Gardner, the third victim in this shooting. She is also in my prayers, and assuming she does recover physically, I'm praying for her emotional recovery. It will be a long one.

Hug a journalist. Remember the collective "media" is made up of people who see some awful stuff. We feel it... and sometimes, we can't just write about the news - we're part of it.

Birthday turkey?

My dearest, darling Jess -

For the first time, I'm writing this on your actual birthday.. which is also Thanksgiving Day. Your last two birthdays have been really hard, but I'm feeling pretty hopeful on this one.

I have so much to be thankful for this year. I have my family - my brother is home safe from his deployment! - my health, my job, an amazing amount of people who seem to love me for the ridiculously strange person I am, and this really wonderful angel I know I've had looking out for me. (And given my clumsiness, I know you've been working overtime.. except for that time last week I bit it in the Target parking lot.. and I KNOW you laughed.)

There have been some struggles this year, but I can't help wondering if that's just part of being in your mid-twenties. It makes me a little angry, but mostly sad that I can't really share that with you. We should be laughing, eating turkey AND birthday cake, and roller skating - because that doesn't sound like a disaster waiting to happen.

People are brought into your life for a reason, right? I know you were brought into my life right when I needed you - someone who could remind me of the important things in life.. to laugh, love, and LIVE. It's that tremendous loss that I like to pretend I don't feel because it still hurts.. which is probably why I just burst into tears.

Some things have gotten easier to handle over what has almost become two and a half years. (How is that possible?) I don't cry every time I think about our adventures - in fact, I have listened to "Chelsea Dagger" more than ever this week - and I dance! (Shh.) I can talk about you without needing to break down - most of the time. I usually find myself just talking to you out loud in the car, which means half of Dallas probably thinks I am a crazy person. They might be right. :)

Two years ago, after everything that happened, I started the "Mustaches for Jessi" project to honor you. I tried to start it again this year, but things kind of got away from me. Cue the guilt trip - some best friend I am. I'll try again next year - promise.

While my plate has been full - and I'm sure you know the details - it's not that you haven't been on my heart or my mind. I recently got to meet our pal Tony and his family - it was a fantastic reminder of all of the wonderful moments and people you brought into my life, and for that I am forever thankful.

Enough rambling - I've got to get ready for work, because some things never change! :)

I love you, I miss you... you better be saving that spot for me at the big hockey rink in the sky. I'll bring the Crown... or we can shotgun beers.

Happy 27th birthday, Jess.
ily.

Some things change, others stay the same.

A lot about my life has changed drastically in two years.

I have moved across the country, changed jobs, gotten a new car, made the switch from Apple to Android, dated a guy or two, and tried to fill the void left behind by the loss of my best friend.

As I sit here writing at 4am, I can't help but think about the late night phone calls and texts that seemed endless, even though we lived in different time zones. Any time, day or night, I could count on a text about Jess' day or a quick "hello" and "I miss you."

It was a late night moment that changed my life forever when she was killed in that movie theater. To this day, I can pretty much count on one hand the number of times I've been to the movies since then. It's sad; movies were almost a weekly outing when I was in college. Now, I can't help but feel uneasy walking into a theater. I've made myself go anyway, but it's not the same.

So now I find other things to do. And I find new ways to distract myself when I know it's too much to think about. This weekend, I am taking off work and staying out of the house so I can remind myself it's a beautiful July day in Dallas and I should be thankful I am alive and living my life, just like she would want me to do. 

But the thought will still be there. In the back of my mind, I will still remember where I was July 20, 2012; crying in my room in South Bend, wondering why she had to go through yet another shooting.. and why this time she wasn't as lucky. Wondering why someone would feel a need to walk into a movie theater and open fire, killing people he'd never met. Telling everyone I would be okay, even when I didn't feel like myself and wasn't sure what I would do next.

I thought she would always be around. We had all of these random plans - trips to Canada, Turks and Caicos, Vegas.. places she loved and wanted to share. We were going to show the world who we were and what we could do; prove that we weren't just little Texas girls with big dreams and zero talent. Now I'm going it alone.

I've lost people in my life before, but this was different. This was so violent and public; so shocking and terrifying. And the people I'd said goodbye to before were important, but they weren't my best friend.

Her death felt like I had the rug pulled out from underneath me. Suddenly I realized nothing is guaranteed.. and the person who knew more about me than 99.9% of the world was gone. Few understand everything about me - my frustrations, my tears, my awkwardness, my jokes, and my personality - but Jessi got it. And I got her.

She still reminds me she's here now and again. I've smelled her perfume out of nowhere, heard songs we shared when I needed them most, and felt that breeze that could pass for a hug. I've seen things that shouldn't make me laugh, but I know we would both crack up over them.. and an eerie calm when I'm in the middle of a breakdown over the problem of the moment.

I'm not sure how two years have really passed; in some ways, it feels like yesterday. In others, it feels like an eternity. Every birthday, every accomplishment, every minor celebration makes me feel like I'm leaving her behind. And I feel guilty for that. Some say I'm really just taking her along with me.

I will never be who I was on July 19, 2012 again. Some things have changed, but part of that Emily has come back. She's a little tougher, a little more compassionate, and a little more jaded. But I can't help but think of the line from "Wicked"... "because I knew you, I have been changed for good."

Two years later, I still call Jess my best friend. That is one thing that will never change.

Should you feel so inclined, please donate to the Jessica Redfield Ghawi Foundation.

#ily