Death feels like trauma. Especially when it's visited on the young. I mean it wouldn't take 15,000 dead children for me to stop a war--it was already too much at one dead child.
(I walked to the art fair with friends today and lingered over afternoon tea for hours, but these thoughts weren't far from my head.)
Pic: Judith Lowry's painting titled "Going Home." It's in the section of the Heard Museum about Indian Boarding Schools, and I've been haunted by it since I saw it last week.
7 comments:
Sad.
Awww poor babies. I know what you're saying, Maya, lives are so precious, everyone's life is, but children especially so.
I'm truly a child about Death. I cannot process it maturely. Like you, the thoughts about it linger and persist. I've been this way forever.
That illustration is haunting. Discomfiting.
I'm sorry about the kits. It sounds like you did everything you could.
As for the children of Gaza (and all wars) I don't even know what to say. A lot of my charitable giving recently has been directed to Unicef and UNHCR, but that hardly seems enough.
Sorry to be a downer, friends.
Gillian--yes.
Nicole--that part!
Nance--I feel what you're saying. I thought I'd get it as I got older, but no.
Steph--Bless you for doing all you can.
I was at a funeral yesterday for someone who died far too young. It is hard to go on with day to day activities sometimes when everything is traumatic. But we must brush our teeth and walk the dog and make dinner.
Engie--I'm so sorry about the loss of someone near to you. Sometimes I wonder (and worry) about how we're simply expected to go on...
Post a Comment