Remember the earthquake victims

I have two young boys, and I’m two months pregnant with my third child. I cry when I see baby pictures on the TV.

I forgot May 12 was Oliver’s 3-year-old birthday. It was the day when the earthquake struck Sichuan, China and claimed 15, 000 lives, many of whom were schoolchildren trapped in collapsed classroom buildings. The images of frightened, injured, and dead children were more than I could bear.

But I kept reading the news. The NPR story gripped my heart:

Dozens of bodies of children were laid out on the ground, waiting for parents to identify them. Once claimed, the bodies were wrapped in shrouds and brought under plastic tarps. Hundreds of parents waited for hours in the rain for word of their children.

Parents built makeshift shrines and placed the bodies of the dead on pieces of cardboard or plywood as they grieved over the small lifeless forms. Some lighted red candles or burned paper money to send children into the afterlife. Others set off firecrackers to ward off evil spirits. The grim ritual played out by dozens and dozens of families as they kept watch over their babies one last time.

For two nights I wouldn’t let Victor out of my sight. What if something bad happens to my beautiful, vibrant and loving child?

Of course I’d use my body to shield him. I’d do the same for a stranger’s child if I was in the earthquake. I’m not heroic, it’s mother nature.

But this doesn’t take away the pain. No amount of heroism could alleviate the pain of losing a child or a loved one. No matter how we comforted the victim families, their lives are changed forever.

When you feel their pain, your life is changed as well.

It’s the kind of despair that knows no bound. You cannot keep your head above water. You are powerless, unable to move, speak, or even feel the pain. It has crippled you. You keep breathing, because it’s the only thing left to do.

If you can express your grief, the worse is over. If you can ask for help, you’re on your way to recovery.

I remember after 9.11, we were heartened to hear President Bush declare that we’ll prevail, that freedom will prevail. Now 7 years later, that day was but the beginning of a perpetual descend into a dark, painful reality that we didn’t do the right thing. The victims of 9.11 weren’t honored. The country didn’t heal. There was more violence in the world, more hatred, poverty, and helplessness.

At the height of patriotic fervor, I applied to the FBI. In 2004 I passed the interviews. When I trained for the physicals, I found I was pregnant. I had Oliver instead of joining the FBI. I have no regrets.

Survivors should remember the victims with love. The memorial is in our hearts.

I donated money through Mercy Corps to the earthquake victims in China. I will remember the beautiful and vibrant children. I feel their parents’ grief, and their grief changes my life.