I lived in Charleston, South Carolina for 20 years. Two decades in the Holy City, which annually lands at or near the top of every list of great cities to visit. I was recruited to work for a start-up medical manufacturer there and married my husband in St. Mary’s in downtown Charleston. Alex was born here. I owned several businesses and employed local residents. The people and the community embraced and supported my family and my businesses. We actively participated, served on boards and volunteered our time and talent. We coached youth sports teams. We were members of a church, a neighborhood and community. We were vested in Charleston. It was easy to do. Many give much to this great city.

Charleston deserves considerable credit for shaping a huge part of the woman I am today. Yet, during all of this time, thankfully I never knew a single person who got murdered in Charleston. Not until I woke up on Thursday, June 18th in Omaha, Nebraska to a lit up phone.  What the heck happened, I wondered? Why all the messages?

Sadly, three people we knew and interacted with, along with six others, lost their lives. The news stunned and deeply saddened me and the level of grief only heightened as details were released. They were shot point blank in a church basement while attending a Bible study session. Who does that? Why?

Multiple sources have asked me to comment about the mass murder. I have remained silent, allowing myself time to process the insanity of it all and to mourn for the victims, their families and the city itself.

I am so sorry for everyone involved. These were outstanding citizens-all nine of them. As we mourn, my family and I have watched with pride as the city unites peacefully to show the world the real character of it’s classy soul.

I am not clueless. Racism is alive and present in South Carolina.  I was aware of the racial undertones, but did not let them interfere with my interactions or decisions. As they say in Charleston, I was “from off”, even though I lived there 20 years. I wasn’t even called a ‘Yankee’ because my birthplace is North Dakota. Several folks referred to me as a ‘Southern Canadian’, which always brought a laugh to both parties. I was a misfit with an awareness. It would be pretentious of me to say I had an understanding of the historical tensions and conflicts between races. I didn’t grow up there. I didn’t share the ancestral stories of either side. Yet, despite that, the tension and need to always be “racially or politically correct” was certainly real. My awareness was acute, and like most, I did my best to straddle that fine line to avoid offending anyone.

Yet today as I listen to Charlestonians in my ear or on television the focus has not been on racial divides. Rather, they weep for the senseless loss of life and for the young man so misguided in his thoughts and actions. They ache for the city and for the goodness they need restored. They know the Confederate Flag is a symbol, not a cause. They want their leader, their parent, their friend and their family member back.

So, may the souls of these nine good citizens rest in peace and may the watching world learn from the fine example being set in Charleston of unity, peace and strength of community.

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Nine were shot dead.

Life got real.

 Hearts broke.

Tears fell.

The world mourned.

Politicians reacted.

Charleston citizens united.

The world watched.

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I went through my catalog of Charleston photographs since the shootings last week.  My intent was to post images of landmarks which visually represent my fondness for the city.

Instead, what grabbed me were the photos of people. Landmarks are nice, but these images  represent the heart and soul of this fine city-diverse citizens peacefully interacting, enjoying fellowship and working on behalf of their community.

Color of skin is not a barrier to co-existing.

Learning to thrive with that attitude and understanding is what is needed to peacefully heal from this senseless act.

Copyright. June 2015. Linda Leier Thomason