Hundreds of people come together in memory of Gary Mackay

I was so touched and comforted to see the support of the community as a sea of people rallied around their neighborhood. As we started walking up the road a few stray white helium balloons floated skywards and as I followed them with my eyes I caught sight of a cloud that had the most illuminated orange sunset light bursting out of it, it felt like a message of some kind. A few moments later it started to rain as the biggest, wettest raindrops splashed, heads down we moved towards their home where the tragedy happened. It was so unsettling arriving outside the house, it's hard not to imagine the trauma that happened a few mornings ago. A dad like any dad protecting his family, this crime is something we can so relate to, it could have happened to you, to me.

 

We laid flowers and candles outside the gate, there was a beaming picture of Gary in a frame nestled amongst the bright mountain of floral love. It felt surreal, unkind, unfair. Why should this family have to deal with this?

 

Why do we have to live in fear?

 

I hate the fact that I have to question my safety when going for a walk as a stranger walks towards me. I hate that I no longer go for a walk alone because I am scared.

 

I hate that when I'm in a lift of strangers I keep my eyes down and hold my handbag a little closer. I hate that I'm too scared to pick up an old lady on the side of the road that really looks like she could do with a lift.

 

I am scared.

 

I hate that when my alarm at home goes off I feel panicked. I hate that my children's health is not the only bill of well being I have to look after. I hate that I have to teach them not to trust with an open heart. I hate that I don't drive alone at night.

I am scared.

I hate that on the way to join the community on Wednesday night my son asked where I was going. I was quiet, he asked again. In a soft tone I explained that I was going to lay flowers down for a man named Gary. Why he asked? Again in a soft sad tone I explained he had gone to the stars. Why he asked again. At this stage I felt trapped. I didn't want to bombard his little six-year-old brain with the stark reality, 'my love a baddie shot Gary' he was quiet he just looked at me with his big brown chocolate drop eyes. 'Oh' he said eventually. He put his head down and looked like he wanted to cry. 'Are there baddies in South Africa?' Yes, I said. 'Do they know where we live?' 'No my love' typing this now, I cry.

 

Sending Symone and her girls and their whole family all the love and strength my heart can muster. I am so, so very sorry for your loss.