Not even Philadelphia’s thick coat of armor could absorb the heartbreak of the latest act of violence

We endure in Philadelphia. We pride ourselves on our city-sized coat of armor, don’t we?

But sometimes, something so senseless, so absolutely cruel, happens that even the most hardened among us are left grasping for answers.

I could feel Tish Byrne’s heartache as we stood outside the Center City Macy’s Tuesday afternoon, a day after two security guards were stabbed at the store, one fatally.

While we talked at the retailer’s entrance on 13th and Market Streets — bouquets of flowers piled by the doors — the lifelong Philadelphian turned into a kind of unofficial messenger when visitors found themselves at a shuttered store that was normally bustling during the holidays.

Over and over, the same word was repeated by those who heard Byrne explain what had happened the day before: sad.

How sad that two young men who were just doing their jobs were attacked by an alleged shoplifter following an altercation after he attempted to steal some hats. Police said Tyrone Garcell Tunnell, 30, who has been arrested in connection with the stabbings, initially left the store without incident before returning 10 minutes later.

How sad that one of the security guards, a 23-year-old whose name has not yet been released, was seriously injured, and that the other guard, Eric Harrison, 27, was killed.

How sad that Harrison’s life was cut short before he had a chance to fulfill the dreams he was working toward with two full-time jobs — one as an unarmed loss prevention officer at the Center City Macy’s and another sorting mail overnight for the U.S. Postal Service on Byberry Road in the Northeast.

Harrison’s mother, Dawn Harrison, told my Inquirer colleagues that her son had been saving up to move out of her place in Frankford and get an apartment of his own.

“He leaves no legacy,” Harrison said, talking about how her son hadn’t gotten the chance to start a family of his own. “Just my memories.”

How absolutely devastating that at a time when we should be reveling in the fleeting joy of the season, we are jolted back to the reality that heartache never takes a holiday.

On the sidewalk, two women who work nearby debated the appropriateness of the festive music pouring onto Market Street from Macy’s.

Maybe the music went on automatically, wondered one of the women, who said they were government workers and declined to give their names.

Even so, said her friend, someone should have noted the dissonance and turned it off.

It was a jarring juxtaposition, cheerful melodies wafting over what had been the site of such chaos just a day before.

But it also represented the truths we Philadelphians have to simultaneously hold about our city. The good and the bad, and how unfairly and uncomfortably they live side by side in the poorest big city in the nation.

We can debate poor retail theft policies and penalties all day long — and that’s usually most of what we do in Philly: talk. But what will any of those words or debates mean to Harrison’s loved ones — his mother and his three sisters, and a city full of people who can’t wrap their heads around a hardworking young man never making it back home?

Before she stopped at Macy’s Tuesday morning, Byrne, a city tour guide, went to Mass around the corner at St. John the Evangelist Roman Catholic Church.

There, she prayed for the security guards and their families, but also for the city she loves.

“My heart is broken,” she said. “And I think the whole city feels that way.”

Except for some time in California and London, Philadelphia has always been Byrne’s home, and nearly every year since she was a girl, she’s gone to Macy’s to see the popular Christmas light show at one of the city’s most historic retail locations.

Since becoming a tour guide for various organizations, including Mural Arts, Byrne has taken great pride in welcoming people from all corners of the world to her city.

She had been at Macy’s the day before with a group of 19 people from around the country to see the light show and Dickens Village, where she also works.

While mourning the men and their families, she said she is committed to becoming even more intentional with her message about the city.

“This is the dark side,” she said, looking at the bouquets by the store’s entrance. “And the only way we can counterbalance it is with love and light.”

I believe her, and I’m glad we have people like Byrne in the city. But something about the way her eyes lingered on the flowers broke me.

Try as we might in Philadelphia to live with our realities and reconcile ourselves with the coexistence of sorrow and joy, sometimes no armor is thick enough to absorb the pain of such heartbreaking loss.