The Power of a Story and a Small Act of Kindness

Ten years ago, 49 souls left this world in a horrific mass shooting at Pulse Nightclub. Whether directly impacted by the tragedy or not, everyone in Orlando and the surrounding communities remembers June 12, 2016, and likely always will.

Pulse was known as a safe haven for everyone, especially members of the LGBTQ+ community. On that Saturday night, it was hosting "Latin Night," once again welcoming people from all backgrounds and walks of life. It was a place built on acceptance, community, and belonging.

The 49 people who lost their lives were there for many different reasons. Some were celebrating birthdays, some were unwinding after a long week, and others were simply enjoying a night out with friends. While they came together for different reasons, they all shared the same tragic fate.

Over the past ten years, Orlando has grown and changed. Yet regardless of the changes, good or bad, to our beloved City Beautiful, we continue to remember Pulse. We mourn the tragedy, honor those who were lost, and carry their memories forward.

At StoryKeepers, we believe that part of honoring those lives is continuing to tell their stories. There is a saying that a person dies twice: first when they leave this world physically, and second when their story is no longer told. In an effort to keep these stories alive, here is one from our founder, Angela.

Remembering the Cory James Connell

I didn't know Cory Connell personally. His family and friends don't know me. In fact, 99.9% of what I know about Cory comes from what I have read online. But what I do know is that he impacted my life in a profound way through a simple act of kindness.

Cory Jame Connell, 8/18/1994 - 6/12/2016

A little over ten years ago, I moved back to Orlando from Tallahassee after graduating from grad school. Two days after graduation, and just four days before I was moving home, my boyfriend of nearly four years unexpectedly broke up with me.

Heartbroken and experiencing my first real breakup at age 25, I drove the four hours back to Orlando in tears. For about a week, I survived on a steady diet of Ben & Jerry's ice cream.

One afternoon, I finally got off the couch and put on what I considered an acceptable outfit for leaving the house. Looking back, leggings and an oversized stained sweatshirt probably weren't my strongest fashion statement, but they were good enough for a quick trip to the CVS in College Park to buy whatever ice cream happened to be available.

I walked up to the counter with my ice cream, doing my best to avoid conversation because I would probably start crying.

The cashier rang up my purchase. As I was about to leave, he looked at me and said, "Hey, everything will be okay."

Then he gave me an encouraging smile.

I thanked him and walked out.

It was one of those rare moments in life when you truly feel seen.

Of course, we all have family and friends who love us and support us. But here was a complete stranger taking a moment out of his day to offer kindness and encouragement to someone he didn't know.

I carried that interaction with me for a long time.

Actually, I still carry it with me. It's been more than ten years, and I still think about it.

At the time, I didn't know his name was Cory. But I would occasionally see him when I stopped by CVS.

It wasn't until after the Pulse shooting that I returned to the store and saw the memorial photo the staff had placed in his honor.

I know there were people experiencing far greater grief than mine after that tragic event. But all the same, here was a kind soul who had made a profound impact on someone's life simply by saying five words.

Five words.

And they stayed with someone for more than a decade.

So there are two things I take away from this experience.

First, thank you, Cory, for seeing me.

You taught me that small acts of kindness can have a profound impact on people. I hope I can have even a fraction of the positive influence on others that you clearly had on this world.

Second, it doesn't take much to be kind.

Saying hello. Asking someone how they're doing. Offering a smile. Taking a moment to acknowledge another human being.

These small gestures can make the world a little better.

We know the world can feel frightening and uncertain at times. But each of us has the ability to make it a little kinder and a little easier for someone else.

So, as we reach the tenth anniversary of this tragic event, I encourage you to share stories, both big and small.

Stories keep memories alive.

Cory, our story was brief, but I'm grateful it happened.

Rest in peace.

And thank you for reminding me that everything will be okay.