Friday, March 16, 2012

1 minute of silence

1 minute of silence to remember the catastrophe that happened in Switzerland. 22 little children will never come home to tell their stories. 6 adults will never be able to say 'I love you' to their loved ones, their families, their parents. 28 persons suddenly disappeared from this planet. 28 persons who will never be able to tell another joke, who can't argue anymore, who can't share their suffering and joy with others.

52 persons were on their way home when suddenly, after barely 20 kilometers of driving, they would never arive. Reason? Unknown. Impact? Huge. The Belgian population and the rest of the world were shocked. The Swiss Emergency Services reacted en masse. Witnesses let us understand what a terrible disaster this was. Even the most seasoned emergency workers - who get their portion of suffering and pain every day - had tears in their eyes.

I was no exception. Even when writing this post I have to push back my tears. Besides all those children and adults who left us behind, there are still several others in the hospital. Broken legs, arms, other injuries, coma, ... It's just horrible! These last couple of days our country has been in a state of shock because of the terrible accident on 14 march 2012.

At 11 o'clock this morning everyone held one minute of silence. I never expected that that one minute would affect me the way it did. Just knowing that everyone else in Belgium is also holding a minute of silence and thinking about what happened on Wednesday. It really gets to you. One minute of silence for the family of the victims out of solidarity. I just can't imagine what it must be like for those families, knowing your child (even adults are someone's child) will never return home. You'll never hear their stories on what they did and how they felt on their skiing trip. How heartbreaking is that?

On Monday I fell down the stairs at home (yes, even adults can fall down a stair) and I was complaining about the pain. But the physical pain I suffered doesn't even compare to the emotional pain and loss the families must feel. How can I still complain about my pain if someone else just lost their son or daughter? It makes you realize even more that you really have to live in the moment. That you have to make sure that the other person knows how much you love them. Never, ever leave somewhere without giving a token of that love. If you just had an argument, make sure that they know that you still love them, no matter what! Because you never know when it's too late to say it. This way, you'll never have blame yourself for not saying those things or that the last words you said to each other were words of hatred/argument.

Even though I never met the adults and children of that bus or even know their names, I will never forget them. Everybody recognizes emotions, you don't need to put a face on it. I'm sure these last couple of days and the coming days/weeks/months will be unbearable for the families left behind. Still, they need to know that we suffer with them. They say that 'shared grieve is half grief' (I translated this literally, don't know the saying in English). It won't bring those people back, but perhaps it will help the families in the processing of their grieve. Wouldn't that be a lovely and comforting thought?

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