For the past few days I have been complaining to N. about feeling overwhelmed. How life with my three HEALTHY children for the past 2 1/2 months has been draining, exhausting and nerve wrecking. I even told him that my mom was probably right. I couldn’t DO IT ALL. I was probably not cut out for ‘this’.
And while I was trying to keep my cool and not yell at Jannis for waking his little brother up from his much needed nap, I came across a picture of a little boy. THE little boy. In the red shirt. Lying on the beach. Face down.
My heart stopped.
I closed my eyes. I wanted the image to disappear from my head. I desperately needed it to be fake. A hoax. Oh, how I wish it were that simple…
His name was Aylan. He was 3. He drowned along with his 5 year old brother and their mother while fleeing Syria. His father was the only one that ‘survived’. Although I am not sure if alive is how he feels right now.
Anger. Despair. Panic. Shock. Breathlessness. Sadness. PROFOUND sadness & guilt.
Who am I to complain about such trivial things as not getting enough sleep? What ‘problems’ am I really talking about?
We don’t have ANY problems. Not any big ones anyway. Our ‘issues’ are not permanent. We haven’t suffered any horrible losses which have left irreparable voids in our hearts and lives. We are going through a slightly challenging phase, which will soon pass.
Right now we have each other and this is the richest we will ever be.
until next time
One of the things that really scares the hell out of me are natural disasters. They are unpredictable, terrifyingly powerful and completely and utterly uncontrollable. One such natural disaster was the 2004 Indian Ocean earthquake which caused the tsunami that cost the lives of more than 230,000 people.
When you are lucky enough NOT to experience such thing first hand, you tend to forget about such a horrific tragedy shortly after. You are numb and petrified, you are in awe of nature’s power and you try to put yourself in the shoes of the less fortunate. For a while. And then the effect starts fading away. I wish it lasted longer but it really doesn’t.
I had forgotten about it until yesterday when Alex, N. & I sat down for a movie night to watch ‘Lo imposible’ (please explain the spanish title when the cast and the language spoken throughout the movie are both English).
The truth is that I did not have any intentions of watching it. When Alex insisted and N. suggested the other night that we should watch something of substance (while we were ‘wasting’ our times watching the Oscars) I gave in and agreed to watch the true story of a family who managed to survive the tsunami of 2004. It was powerful, at times pretty disgusting but most of all unbelievably scary.
The reason I did not want to watch it is that I don’t consider myself strong enough to face the impossible. Not the movie, but my fear. My absolute worst nightmare of all, the loss of a child.
It was not so much the movie though that made me shiver, but the documentary I watched the day after on YouTube, tsunami-caught on camera (part 1-6). I urge you to watch this (should you have the stomach to endure the full 6 parts). It is shocking and immensely sad and as painful as it gets.
You will probably think (as I did at first), I have enough ‘problems’ already, why should I suffer and watch something that terrible? Well…for most of us, who were blessed not to experience something like this, it is one hell of a wake up call!
And who doesn’t need one, every now and then?
Until next time