The week of April 19, 1995 was my last week at Best Buy. I had turned in my two weeks notice the week prior, and was set to start my new job at the FAA the following week.

I mostly worked evenings at Best Buy, so it was not uncommon for me to still be in bed at 9am. Susan and I were living in a mobile home off of NW 10th and Morgan Road — 10 miles from the Alfred P. Murrah building.

I was laying in bed when I heard my bedroom windows begin to rattle. It felt like a city garbage truck was idling right outside my home. I didn’t think much about it until I realized that our trash normally ran on Tuesday, not Wednesday. I rolled over and peeked out the window, but didn’t see anything.

Now awake, I went to the living room and turned on the television. Reporters were already reporting that “something” had happened downtown — they just didn’t know what yet. I stuck my head out the front door and saw the black plume of smoke rising from downtown for the first time.

I went back to the living room and for some reason, stuck a blank VHS tape in the VCR and hit record.

At that same time, Susan was working at a medical supply company. Her building was six miles away from the Alfred P. MUrrah building. She said that she was sitting at the front desk when the blinds in the front windows all swung away from the window and then crashed back into the glass. She and her co-workers went outside to investigate as they were sure “a truck had hit our building.” A few minutes later, a spouse of one of her co-workers called the office to tell them “something bad had happened downtown” and to “start getting medical supplies ready.”

For most of the day I sat at home by myself, watching the drama unfold in real time. There were so many bits of misinformation released that day. Early on, authorities were on the search for Middle Eastern men. There was also the moment when authorities found, or at least thought they found, a second device. The official explanation was that the second device was a training device that had originally been in the building. There was a lot of confusion that morning.

I went to work that evening. Best Buy was one of the donation centers. We had gathered flashlights and batteries from the store to donate, and customers were dropping off boots and cases of water and a few other items. We had a wooden pallet at work full of those things. I don’t remember if someone picked them up or if someone dropped it off downtown.

During that time I was spending a lot of time of IRC (internet chat). I logged in and began relaying information. This was before almost anyone had a cell phone — and even if they did, the phones were so jacked up that it was almost impossible to get a call connected. I sat on IRC for days, relaying information back and forth to people in other parts of the country.

The week after the bombing, I reported for work at the FAA. It has never been lost on me that like many of the people who were killed that day, I too am a federal worker. Most of those people had absolutely nothing to do with Timothy McVeigh’s vendetta against the government. I’m quite sure the 19 kids that were killed in the daycare didn’t.

It didn’t take long before people began hearing names of victims that they recognized. My second-cousin worked in the daycare of the Alfred P. Murrah building and was killed. A classmate’s father was also killed in the blast. More than that, throughout the years we’ve met many people who were survivors of the blast. Susan has two or three co-workers who were in the Murrah building that day. I worked with a guy for a while who told me he was trapped in the building for hours after the explosion and actually made a tourniquet out of a network cable to stop his leg from bleeding before he was rescued.

I’ve taken friends visiting from out of town down to the Murrah Memorial a few times. Every time, it’s hard. Every time I stand in front of those 168 chairs that represent the 168 people who died that day, I get choked up. Every time I stand in front of those 19 smaller chairs that represent the children that died in the daycare, I lose it. I’ve been through the museum next door exactly once. I recommend everybody go through it. If you’re interested, I’ll pay your way and drop you off at the door. I don’t think I could do it again.

Sometimes when we go downtown Susan points out the church across the street from the Murrah building. She had gone down there four days before the bombing to find out about having our wedding there. We were going to get married in that church and have our reception in Leadership Square. That obviously didn’t happen.

They say “time heals all wounds.” I don’t know that it does. With no real direct connection to the explosion, I still feel sad when I go down to the memorial. I still get choked up when they talk about the kids that were killed. Oklahoma City is much different than it was 20 years ago. The MAPS project revitalized Bricktown. We now have the OKC Thunder. But even though downtown Oklahoma City may look different, nobody who lives here will ever forget what it looked and felt like downtown 20 years ago.

April 19. 9:02 AM.