This story was originally written by my father, Dale Edward Morlock. I edited it to correct his spelling and grammar.
I would like to tell you a story—sad but true.
The story is about of the worst shocks that I have ever felt, and often this feeling comes back in times of tragedy.
I worked nights at General Motors in Oklahoma City. During the day, I put out a tip ship for the racetrack, Remington Park.
On April 19th, 1995, I left the house around 9 A.M. to pick up my racing form so I could do my day’s handicapping, then print out my picks.
On the way to pick up my racing form, I noticed that off to my right, there was a big pillar of smoke. When I arrived at the shop to make my purchases, the man who ran the store had the TV on, and he asks me if I had heard about the bombing, but I had not. He related to me that someone had just set off a huge bomb in the middle of town.
There were four people I worked with—two on each side of the line—and each side had an inspector that checked to see if we had any repairs to fix.
Our inspector who worked with us was an older Mexican man, and he had worked with us for quite awhile. That night, he didn’t show up for work, and he always showed up for work. We found out that night that his grandson was one of the little ones killed in the bombing.
Me and my friends were all invited to this little boy’s funeral; the boy was only a little baby of two.
None of us really wanted to go to this funeral, but we went out of respect to our friend and his family. When we got to the funeral home, we found a place where we could all sit together.
The people there—the women and the men—were crying everywhere. I myself was trying not to tear up. (Real men don’t cry. Yeah, right.)
That’s when I first noticed that coffin in the front of the room, a little small coffin for a little baby boy that never could have harmed a soul.
Once I saw that coffin, it was all over for me. Tears came into my eyes, I got the shakes, and I all but threw up. It was the worst feeling I have ever felt, and I had never met this boy in my life.
Sometimes we can put bad things behind us, but every time there’s a shooting at a school or a mall or someone runs people down at a parade or the terrible acts of 9/11, it all comes back to me.
When that happens, all I can see is a little boy who was murdered and his little casket.
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