Over the last few days, watching the news, I became struck by something. I feel our community doing the moving on bit that people love so much during tragedy. The fires are not yet fully contained, but besides the few quick updates on their status, what you mostly hear on our local tv news and radio stations, are tidbits on how wonderfully everyone responded, how many people are back home, how the football team with still play in our hometown, even with the bad air. In fact, a few days before the game, one newscaster said, and I quote, "The big question on everyone's mind is- Will the team play in town on Sunday?" THAT was the big question?
It got me thinking about the people who did lose a home, pets, and those few unfortunate enough to know the human victims of the fires. It isn't over for them, not even close. Their journey is just beginning. It reminded of when M died. See, after the initial grief of finding out and him being born, it was over for many people. They went home, lived a normal day. Mr. G and I had barely taken our first step on the path. Not only that, we are still on that path and will probably always be, in some way or another. Now, no one can truly live your life, feel your feelings, walk in your shoes, so it makes sense that this is the way it is. Why wouldn't everyone go home to live a normal day, a normal life? It isn't their pain, no matter how badly they feel for you. At the same time, it makes me sad that our society is always in such a race to *move on*, *have closure*, get past the tragedy and go back to discussing fun things like football games. That attitude is what leaves the grieving and hurting feeling so far behind, so isolated. It must be why I have heard so many grieving people question their pain, question its validity. The flames still burn, but many people get to pretend they don't feel the heat.
I am contemplating a post with the potential to cause explosions. It is a topic that many people feel strongly about, that many judge about. However, it is something that I have struggled with many times in the past almost 2 years. And something happened today to bring it to my attention once again. I am still turning over in my mind my reasons for wanting to post about this. It is something I have tried very hard to move on from, to forget as best I could. I don't talk about it in real life, so why here? Do I want to post for me, for others who may have a similiar issue, or (and this is the one I am truly afraid of) to seek forgiveness, to have people tell me it is okay? And that last one may not happen, if I open this door, in fact, I may get the opposite. Judging damnation from an unforgiving public.
So, to tread lightly on the post I am contemplating, do you have a past? Or a secret? Is it something no one would ever guess about you? Something people don't think fits their image of you? And does anything in your past make you feel sorry for yourself, that your things are something that must sometimes be noted, that can't be forgotten, while others have pasts far dirtier, but that they can hide forever? Yours is an almost physical presence, you can't truly run from it? Just wondering.