July 7th, 2005 - A Personal Reflection

Today, the anniversary of the London subway bombings, is almost over. I hadn't forgotten it and I knew what I wanted to post. I just couldn't make up my mind to do it.

My blogging buddy Alice, a young woman from Kidderminster, England, has written about her feelings one year later. It's not political except in the broadest sense; it's a meditation on sorrow, anger, and fear.

For me this was not a day to rant about the debacle in Iraq. It was a day to say to my friend "I'm sad too". For the victims in London and the victims everywhere.

No link this time. Here's her post.

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How should I feel? What should I feel…?

Angry, at the four people who caused such carnage on what should have been just another day, what should have been just another journey, what should have been just another Thursday?

Sorrow, for the lives lost, the lives altered, the lives destroyed, the lives shattered, the people affected, the people that lived through it, the people that died because of it – their families, their friends, the people that will never speak to or touch someone they cared for, loved again, the people who find someone they care for, love, changed, altered, different by something seemingly so meaningless, so confusing?

Fear, for the future, for what might happen, for what probably will happen, for the destruction of people, towns, cities, countries; the world?

Pity, for those who feel that this was somehow right, somehow justified, that those lives deserved to be lost, that those involved deserved the pain, and the terror, that their relatives deserved it, or worse, that their lives, their futures meant nothing; simply a means to an end?

Fury, at those involved higher up the scale, at those in charge, at those who ruled, who guided - at those who caused such brainwash, such corruption, those who showed such cowardice, such evil, and selfishly, callously, cruelly let others cause the pain and slaughter, the terror and suffering that they for their own reasons desired to inflict upon innocent people, upon fellow human beings.

Shame, that I have allowed myself to be so affected by it, that I have allowed them to win, to let me be ruled by the fear they seemingly wanted to create, that I dread tomorrow and the thought of a train journey that I do not have the heart to tell my Grandfather I don’t wish to partake in because I am simply afraid.

Confusion, as to why it happened, what the reasoning was, what was gained by the wanton destruction and disregard for humanity that took place a year ago today, how anybody could have contemplated it, how anybody could have been so engulfed with hatred, so consumed with indifference, that they would board public transport and blow themselves, and intend to blow up everyone around them, to pieces?

Relief, that nobody I knew, nobody I cared for was killed or injured, that no-one dear to me suffered as a result, that I lost no-one in this apparently mindless act of carnage and bloodshed?

Pride, that in the face of such adversity so many helped, so many human beings dismissed their own needs, their own day-to-day lives and clubbed together and saved lives, comforted the dying, braved the wreckage, did what they could to ease the suffering, to end the fear?


…I don’t know. I really, truly, do not know how I should feel - what I should feel.
I only know what I DO feel.

And what I feel? Is simply, sad…