A famous story in our area is the awful tale of two girls, sisters, who went missing many many years ago. They had gone to the local shopping mall (one of the early, non-enclosed malls -- like two long strip malls facing each other across a pedestrian avenue, surrounded by acres of parking lot) and they never came home. In my mind I always see them crossing the big, open parking wasteland and then simply -- disappearing.
I bring this up because I have been considering the nature of the human spirit and the ability we have to survive enormous suffering.
As some of you know, our family also lost two children, but in widely different circumstances from the other family. We are in the middle of the two month period between our daughter's birthday in November, 1980, and her death in January, 1999. Our son died also in January, 6 days later than our daughter, but 8 years earlier.
I think of the other family pretty often. I met their mother once at a store -- she saw my name on my check, remembered the newspaper stories about our daughter (which mentioned the earlier death of our son) and said "I think we have something in common." I think about her because she survived.
I think about her because as terrible as the tragedies have been that our family has suffered, the experience of their family is beyond my imagination. They endured days, then weeks, then months, then years, and now decades of never knowing what happened to their daughters. They lost two at once. I'm sure that no matter how much they would like to avoid it, they know their daughters probably suffered. I'm sure that although they did nothing wrong, they are consumed by guilt.
And I think about the enormous suffering of that family because I have been reading so many diaries here by people in terrible circumstances, long-term unemployed, barely making it or not making it and about to lose their homes. People who are cold or hungry this winter because they can't afford to pay for heat or food. A diary yesterday from a man who drives his beat up old car with its missing window through miserable weather to his one-night a week job, his only job, because he can't afford to fix it.
I sit in my warm house knowing there are two of us working, that our two surviving children are healthy and happy, that we come from a large family that would help us if we needed it, that we own enough and have saved enough to see us through some hard times. And I realize, that despite our tragedies, despite the fact that I can see my lost children's faces in my mind but can never hug or kiss them again, despite all that, we are among the lucky ones.
I wish everyone going through hard times improved circumstances, support from those around them, and the inner strength to carry them through to better times.
(posted also at beta site)