Thank you, Las Vegas

They passed the phrase back and forth. From citizen to hockey player. From hockey player to first responder. From shooting survivor to hockey player. Back and forth it went all day: "Thank you."
There are choices when tragedy darkens your door. Las Vegas chose to push back. To grieve and then repair. To stitch a patch of love across this valley and to hold on to one another. One year after the mass shootings of October 1 and Vegas has moved forward but not forgotten. On Monday, the city looked over its shoulder and remembered.
Events were held across the city to commemorate the fallen and to support survivors. And, like they did in the immediate aftermath of last year's shootings, the Vegas Golden Knights made their presence felt in their town.

Players and staff took part in blood drives and visited police stations and ambulance centers. They shook hands, hugged and clapped. The stood side-by-side with the people of Las Vegas. They were right where they were supposed to be. And right where they wanted to be.
At the staff dining hall below Mandalay Bay, players mingled and chatted with hotel employees. VGK goalie Marc-Andre Fleury stood for an hour taking picture after picture. When it was time to leave for the next event, Fleury just smiled and stood in his place - refusing to move on until everyone got what they wanted.
Winger Jonathan Marchessault bounced from one group to the next, laughing and teasing.
At South Central Command police headquarters, defenseman Nick Holden stepped forward and gave an impromptu speech of gratitude to a room of police officers.
Nate Schmidt made it his mission to talk to as many people as he could. To hold their hands, make them smile and listen to their stories.
This wasn't about one big moment but a series of small ones. Interactions between the people of Vegas and their hockey team.
"This is our team," said one police officer. "We feel part of them. And we feel like they're part of us."
For one casino executive, who called the last 12 months the most difficult of his career, the sight of his staff laughing and running through a cafeteria to grab a moment of joy with hockey players almost left him speechless.
"This means so much. You'll never know. So, so much," he said.
October 1 marks perhaps the darkest day in Las Vegas history. Fifty eight killed, hundreds wounded and a city forever scarred. The sounds and pictures of that night still produce shudders and tears from Las Vegans. They always will.
The community lost so much that night. In the ensuing days, Las Vegas discovered a lot about itself. This was a city of love and caring. A city made up of people who wanted to help one another not just when it was convenient. Las Vegans literally gave of themselves as they lined up at blood blanks across the city. Money, food, water, shelter, clothing. It was all proffered.
In the middle of it all were a group of strangers in hockey jerseys. Millionaire athletes displaced from their previous teams only three months prior. The Vegas Golden Knights wanted to be part of what Las Vegas was going through. They wanted to help. To commiserate and grieve and then to begin the first steps of healing. They weren't Las Vegans. Not yet.
But they wanted to be. So they opened up their arms. And Vegas stepped into them.
October 1 denotes the beginning of a relationship between Las Vegas and the Golden Knights. A friendship which goes well beyond hockey. A bond which is rooted in community. A neighborly attachment which isn't different from the relationship people everywhere have with friends on their block. Someone on the street gets sick or loses a loved one - neighbors knock on their door and offer help. The Golden Knights were hockey players from Canada, Finland, Sweden, France, Minnesota and more. They had just arrived in Vegas. They knew almost no one. But they wanted to help. So they did.
They visited survivors, comforted the grief-stricken, and donated blood. Owner Bill Foley offered financial support. President Kerry Bubolz accepted the responsibility of leadership in the community. Deryk Engelland said what we all wanted to say even if we couldn't find the words.
Foley took the name Vegas and attached it to his team's nickname. But it wasn't yet earned. To play for a city, a team has to be of a city. And it's a trust that once bestowed, must be lived up to. It's a responsibility.
In the moments surrounding October 1, the Golden Knights became Vegas's team. They sunk into the DNA of the city. And the city fused itself with the players, the jerseys, the logo and the emergent culture. They made an expansion team about more than profit and loss and victory and defeat.
They gave the Golden Knights purpose and soul. And they offered the team the opportunity to live up to the responsibility of being Vegas's team. It's an honor.
So, yes, thank you.