It's raining...it's pouring...
So why am I online? A profound sense of déjà vu.
Just days over a year ago, a killer tornado ripped through my hometown. Yes; a killer. I think the death toll topped 30 after some of the hospitalized finally succumbed to their injuries. I cannot begin to describe the horror of that morning.
I got a phone call about 8 am. Unbelievably, I had slept through the furor raging less than half a mile from my home. Others were not so lucky.
The aforementioned furor decimated a mobile home park. Over 100 trailers were destroyed; imploding. Their inhabitants, if they were lucky, were thrown clear. Some up to 350 feet away. Another 125 trailers were damaged beyond repair from the debris, electrical fires, and general mayhem.
Why do I dwell on this?
That mobile home park belongs to my uncle. It's managed by my cousin. Those two men lost 25 "family members" in the blink of an eye. No, they didn't live there. Not during the storm. For the next three days they never left, sifting through rubble and hoping against hope to find bodies still able to move; still able to cry.
What they endured I cannot imagine. I wanted to volunteer; to help search. These people, by extension, were my "family" too, though I did not know them. My father refused to take me with him on the death march. For that's what it was. Death; crushed under rubble, bloated in a retaining pond, random body parts strewn amongst twisted metal.
A little girl, maybe two years old, in pink pajamas with little feet and a bunny tail. Killed by a broken neck, but otherwise unmarked. To date the body has not been claimed, though her description was sent to every news station and paper in the country. She has no one left to mourn her loss.
If you read this, whether you believe in God or any entity higher than yourself or not, please say a prayer for those who were lost and those they left behind. For the little girl in pink pajamas who was finally laid to rest in an unmarked grave. For my uncle and cousin, who will be mentally and emotionally scarred for the rest of their lives.
If you're reading this, I assume you're my friend. Do it for me and all the members of my "family." Thank you. Diane
Just days over a year ago, a killer tornado ripped through my hometown. Yes; a killer. I think the death toll topped 30 after some of the hospitalized finally succumbed to their injuries. I cannot begin to describe the horror of that morning.
I got a phone call about 8 am. Unbelievably, I had slept through the furor raging less than half a mile from my home. Others were not so lucky.
The aforementioned furor decimated a mobile home park. Over 100 trailers were destroyed; imploding. Their inhabitants, if they were lucky, were thrown clear. Some up to 350 feet away. Another 125 trailers were damaged beyond repair from the debris, electrical fires, and general mayhem.
Why do I dwell on this?
That mobile home park belongs to my uncle. It's managed by my cousin. Those two men lost 25 "family members" in the blink of an eye. No, they didn't live there. Not during the storm. For the next three days they never left, sifting through rubble and hoping against hope to find bodies still able to move; still able to cry.
What they endured I cannot imagine. I wanted to volunteer; to help search. These people, by extension, were my "family" too, though I did not know them. My father refused to take me with him on the death march. For that's what it was. Death; crushed under rubble, bloated in a retaining pond, random body parts strewn amongst twisted metal.
A little girl, maybe two years old, in pink pajamas with little feet and a bunny tail. Killed by a broken neck, but otherwise unmarked. To date the body has not been claimed, though her description was sent to every news station and paper in the country. She has no one left to mourn her loss.
If you read this, whether you believe in God or any entity higher than yourself or not, please say a prayer for those who were lost and those they left behind. For the little girl in pink pajamas who was finally laid to rest in an unmarked grave. For my uncle and cousin, who will be mentally and emotionally scarred for the rest of their lives.
If you're reading this, I assume you're my friend. Do it for me and all the members of my "family." Thank you. Diane