We don’t wallow. That’s not fair to the dead, and it’s even less fair to the living. We remember, but we also keep walking. London literally rebuilt those train carriages. The bus was returned to service. And the survivors? They started businesses, had babies, and fell in love.
Gill Hicks once said: “I’m not a victim. I’m a survivor, and that means I get to choose my ending.” That’s the kind of statement that makes you want to stand a little taller, doesn’t it?
So, the next time you’re stuck in traffic or annoyed by a delayed train? Just remember: those 52 people would have killed for one more rush hour moan. Literally. So hug your people. Send that text. And never, ever take a Tuesday for granted.
And if you see a memorial plaque at King’s Cross or Tavistock Square? Pause for a second. Maybe just whisper a quiet “cheers.” Because those strangers—your fellow commuters in spirit—they remind us that life is ridiculously fragile and ridiculously precious all at once. Now, refill your mug. We’ve got living to do.
