Tragedy, it seems, is always shocking even when it is expected.
When it is not expected it is only that much more jarring.
There is nothing left to do except to be strong and to fall apart and to flutter between the two.
While it may be tragic for those that have passed, it is more tragic still for those that survive them.
For those that knew them in an everyday way, a way more natural than breathing.
We think of them and pray for them and hope still beyond hope and blame, blame blame. Blame ourselves and fate. Blame an incompetent security guard. Blame a bird that cheated death the same afternoon. And it is none of that. Well maybe the security guard. Maybe.
But some things are in the workings longer than that. Given the way she went, the way she still goes, you think the rest of us would take a lesson. She died from stress. She didn't let it out enough. And here we hold it in. For who? For what? Do they really need us to be strong? Or is that some baloney we tell ourselves so that we can be strong for ourselves? In some areas maybe- maybe when we are completly gone we need them to watch the bills or feed us. But everyone must break down, and while it is good to have someone remind you there is another side to this, there is always another side to get to, it is just as good to fall together locked in unconditional understanding and grief.
Yet instead we hold it in. We are "strong."
I can't help wondering what her last thoughts were. Did she know? Did it cross her mind as even a slight possibility? Was the last thing she saw her daughter or the ceiling of a parking garage or the back of her eyelids? When did she fade, when she go, is she really gone, what was her last normal thought? Was she looking for the car keys, had she stopped to enjoy a pretzel or other mall delicacy. What shops did she go to. Was she simply worried about getting home.
Media has comforted us with the idea that we will know. That moments, minutes, months before we will know. It was a disease, we saw the car coming, we saw the gun and knew. A recognition crosses their face before the final blow. But what if we don't know. We can't always know. We don't always know. OR do we? Is there one last minute of clarity before we let go..
Do we really let go. What is a brain wave anyway besides a blip on a screen.
When it is not expected it is only that much more jarring.
There is nothing left to do except to be strong and to fall apart and to flutter between the two.
While it may be tragic for those that have passed, it is more tragic still for those that survive them.
For those that knew them in an everyday way, a way more natural than breathing.
We think of them and pray for them and hope still beyond hope and blame, blame blame. Blame ourselves and fate. Blame an incompetent security guard. Blame a bird that cheated death the same afternoon. And it is none of that. Well maybe the security guard. Maybe.
But some things are in the workings longer than that. Given the way she went, the way she still goes, you think the rest of us would take a lesson. She died from stress. She didn't let it out enough. And here we hold it in. For who? For what? Do they really need us to be strong? Or is that some baloney we tell ourselves so that we can be strong for ourselves? In some areas maybe- maybe when we are completly gone we need them to watch the bills or feed us. But everyone must break down, and while it is good to have someone remind you there is another side to this, there is always another side to get to, it is just as good to fall together locked in unconditional understanding and grief.
Yet instead we hold it in. We are "strong."
I can't help wondering what her last thoughts were. Did she know? Did it cross her mind as even a slight possibility? Was the last thing she saw her daughter or the ceiling of a parking garage or the back of her eyelids? When did she fade, when she go, is she really gone, what was her last normal thought? Was she looking for the car keys, had she stopped to enjoy a pretzel or other mall delicacy. What shops did she go to. Was she simply worried about getting home.
Media has comforted us with the idea that we will know. That moments, minutes, months before we will know. It was a disease, we saw the car coming, we saw the gun and knew. A recognition crosses their face before the final blow. But what if we don't know. We can't always know. We don't always know. OR do we? Is there one last minute of clarity before we let go..
Do we really let go. What is a brain wave anyway besides a blip on a screen.
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