One Last Time

"My hair is going to be just like hers," she squealed with delight.
"Greedy will slay, it's an anthem," I interjected. We'd been talking over each other all evening, eager, our conversations, that night, were like a bad game of tennis, fast paced and refusing to take turns. 

"I still don't know how we are not the support act," she smirked.

I shot her a withering look.

And then we both erupted into laughter. Adrenaline coursing through our veins. Vibrating with excitement.

We were beaming.

Everyone was beaming.

Over fourteen thousand hearts, outside Dublin's 3Arena, were swelling with glee.




In the queue, adults and children were popping from one foot to the other, deliriously happy, giddy with enthusiasm. Everyone in line was joyously bouncing in their steps, the way concert goers should always be. Attendees leaping with tingly feelings and hints of anticipation.

Mothers, fathers, friends, partners, grandparents, relations, everybody was pumped. All the mundane worries of life muted. Eyes were wide, and smiles even wider. Basking in communal bliss, we were precious diamonds who'd hit the jackpot. We felt warm and smug entering the sold-out arena.

There was kids in matching t-shirts, taking photos to capture the moment. Preserving happy memories, acutely aware that the night would pass rapidly. They needed to cling onto visual reminders of the event.

It was golden, spectacular throughout. Old and young were choked up and misty-eyed, overcome with emotion to be singing their favourite songs with their favourite superstar. Crowds were waving arms in unison. Many were holding hands with strangers, dancing with each other side by side, sharing awe. No one wanted the show to finish, not even the grannies. It really was the Land of Smiles. All was at ease with the world. You get this special sense of togetherness at a concert. 

I'm still reeling from it.

Manchester, two nights later, should've been that way. I'd like to think that it was up until the attack took place. I pray the victims revelled in their final moments and lapped up happiness beyond measure.

I hope they experienced magic and it filled every part of their being. I want them to have been engrossed in all the positive emotions, producing an exhilaration that defies explanation. 

To the fans who never made it back home, you have left a footprint on my heart, and you'll walk beside me every day. 

Because, it's hard to forget the people who gave you so much to remember.

Xxxx


                                   ___________________________________________

I don't have any words of reassurance. I wish I did. Right now, it's too terrifying a thought to even entertain an incident so barbaric and savagely cruel. That's why I wrote this post without directly referring to the bombing. Accepting what happened is very difficult. I have to block out the images. My thought are with the people of Manchester and all those affected. 

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