Osama Bin Laden

 I first learned about Osama Bin Laden's death via twitter. I looked down at my phone and 3 people I follow had posted something about his death, then said go to CNN. Sitting in the living room of my house I yelled out "Osama Bin Laden is dead, turn to CNN!" so that everyone could hear me. There it was confirmed...he was dead, taken out by some pretty bad ass Special Ops guys. Ordered there by our pretty bad ass President.
 Utter joy and disbelief flooded my body. Could this be, this man that scarred a generation of people...could he really be dead? I wanted to sing and dance and laugh and be...well, JOYFUL. The only thing running through my head was "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead". Because our witch was.  I wasn't the only one feeling that way, people actually took to the streets...singing and dancing, being JOYFUL. Being happy...but for me, that happiness left as fast as it came. Because in the back of my mind, it was no longer about celebrating his death, it was about "what's coming next". This community of followers, his followers will surely attempt to strike at us again. Whether us directly or one of our allies. That's scary, but I gave myself a moment for the joy!
  Then, in a matter of days, people started to come out of the woodwork to condemn those who danced and sang...celebrating death is apparently a no-no to some. Even when it's the death of a mass murdered who killed innocents just because he doesn't like how we live. I'm sorry...I don't get that. Those must be the people who were under a rock on that faithful Tuesday. Who didn't witness it, who didn't walk around in a zombie like state that day, that week. Wondering what was happening. Those must be the people who didn't looked (and still look) into the sky every time a plane passed over head and prayed that it wasn't going to come down on them.  Those are the people who weren't truly affected.
   I didn't know anyone who died that day, but I do know that a part of me was taken. That part of freedom that allows you to live blindly, thinking you're untouchable died. I'm scarred by the sights, the sounds, the smoke...the imagines that I'll never forget. Hearing about the men and women who willingly gave their lives to save others...those are the things I'll hold on to. And if my heart was given just a small bit of peace because of the death of this man, then I'll take it. I won't be ashamed to say I was happy, JOYFUL...I wanted to sing and dance at his death because his death was what we've been promised since that day and we got it.