Marking Time (A prayer.)
Since my last post, everything has changed. Everything has changed, and yet nothing has changed at all.
I thought the big news I’d be sharing was that Dave has lost his job. As it turns out, that was not the big news. That will be fine. Everything will be okay. Trust me on this, please, because I don’t want to talk about it anymore.
The big news, as it turns out, is that a 24-year-old member of our family was in a terrible car accident, and she is paralyzed.
Suddenly, the perceived importance of things like job loss (and good writing) fade.
(poof.)
I will not mention her name, nor her geographical location, nor any incriminating details. This post is not meant to exploit.
I will not wax poetic. There are no lessons here, no silver linings. This is not mine to make into magic, into sermon. There will be no eloquent blog post here.
There are a million things I could say, a million ways I could work out my own turmoil in a space that is mine, all mine, but there’s no way on God’s green earth I will say a word in that vein, in vain.
All I mean to do is mark time.
I know that her parents read this blog, or at least, they used to. They used to before today, when today morphed into a gruesome marker that severed what they used to know from what they know now. Today will forever mean everything to them. Someday, perhaps after they’ve relearned how to breathe and to talk and to shower and to put one foot in front of the other, themselves, they may see this post. They may even seek it out, when they come back to the real world, just to see if anyone else realizes what this day meant, as it occurred. By then they’ll understand that the worst part of this whole thing will be that the rest of the world has moved on like nothing ever happened at all. It’s gonna hurt, my GOD, it’s gonna hurt.
Because here’s the thing: The rest of the world keeps spinning. The rest of the world has no idea that anything has changed today. The cars drive on, the newscasts move on, the people, they go on. They go on, and they have no idea.
But I do. I know. And that’s all this is.
Someday, should you come back to this blog, should you seek out this date, this date that now means everything to you, you will see this post, this message. You will know that I marked time, that I slapped down my palm with a vehemence and a bitterness and an anguish I haven’t known in years, and I said, “LISTEN!”
Listen.
Today, everything changed for you. I know that. I mark it.
And so does everyone who reads this. We mark it, for you.
The day that everything changed, for you.
God help us.
Amen.
flutter says:
Oh that news is just horrid. Maggie, my love to her and you
December 13th, 2008 at 10:20 pm
Kelley says:
And today we think of them too. And hug our children that little bit closer, cause by any toss of the coin that could be me. Or my workmate. Or my friend.
Every time I hear an ambulance, or the medical helicopter overhead (we live in a rural area so the helicopter transports people to the city hospitals) my heart lurches and I think ‘Someone’s heart is breaking today’
I pray that it is never mine.
And I send my love and thoughts to you, and your family babe.
December 13th, 2008 at 10:21 pm
Colleen (ladyeunicorn) says:
Oh, sweetie… I’m so very sorry. My prayers for the girl and her parents. And for you.
December 13th, 2008 at 10:26 pm
merlotmom says:
Consider time “marked”. I have heard and I am sorry.
December 13th, 2008 at 10:26 pm
AmyspriteI'm so sorry says:
I’m so sorry to hear about your family’s grief and the painful reworking of life and expectations and dreams that they embark on today. My heart goes out to them….
December 13th, 2008 at 10:27 pm
pgoodness says:
Thoughts and prayers for all of you. And the hope that one day someone will see a silver lining and this, while the end of life as she knows it, is not the end of the possibility of a well-lived life.
December 13th, 2008 at 10:29 pm
Christina Nowacki says:
Hugs. I will hold them in my heart tonight and mark the time with you.
December 13th, 2008 at 10:32 pm
Mr Lady says:
Marked. And through this pit in my chest that I have right now, there is hope for her. I’ll keep hoping for you.
December 13th, 2008 at 10:42 pm
Kat says:
Oh, how awful!! And let us take comfort in the fact that she is still among us. It will be a hard road for all, but… she is still here. You’ll all be in my thoughts. {{{HUGS}}}
December 13th, 2008 at 10:43 pm
racheld says:
By my time, it is not the day any more. That does not lessen my marking of it, nor the remembrance.
You are a fierce friend, and fierce is sometimes needed more than tears.
December 13th, 2008 at 10:47 pm
Veronica says:
Oh shit.
There is so much I could say but it all seems a bit trite. I’m here, marking time with you.
December 13th, 2008 at 10:47 pm
Maura says:
I’m sorry to hear this. I’m marking time with you tonight, too.
December 13th, 2008 at 10:49 pm
a0m0y7 says:
I will pray and ask others to join me. I am sorry for the family that other sad or troubled times will be compared to this one, that tears might come slower… Please keep us updated.
December 13th, 2008 at 10:54 pm
Lesley says:
I’m joining with everyone here to know this happened and to mark this time.
December 13th, 2008 at 10:56 pm
Corkee says:
I mark the time with you…and my prayers are with the girl and her parents, siblings, cousins, grandparents…and you…wherever you fall in the family chain. For some, everything did change. And for those of us whose world keeps spinning..it is not due to indifference. Trust me…everyone who reads this post will feel a little of your pain and try as hard as we can to wish it, or pray it to go away. I am sorry we can’t do more….
December 13th, 2008 at 11:01 pm
Velma says:
I hear it. I hear it, and I stop and mourn a little bit, because everybody’s pain deserves a little marker, a little respect for the difficulty.
I’m sorry.
December 13th, 2008 at 11:03 pm
Hilary says:
Here, I mark time. I feel just… sunk… because of the flippant comment I left you on twitter a few minutes ago. Life is so fragile. My thoughts turn to them. And I am sorry.
December 13th, 2008 at 11:09 pm
Susannah aka Petunia Face says:
Oh shit. That’s all I have. That and a virtual hug to you and your family, to the girl and hers. I am so incredibly sorry for this before and after.
Peace to all of you.
December 13th, 2008 at 11:22 pm
Grizzly Smith says:
I’m sorry for her pain, and theirs, and yours.
Griz
December 13th, 2008 at 11:29 pm
Alicia says:
I work on a spinal cord rehab unit and… I don’t really have much to say except that I am glad you wrote this. It sometimes gets hard for me to remember how fragile things are…even where I work.
I will pray for this girl and her family.
December 13th, 2008 at 11:59 pm
Kristin Lynch says:
I’m so sorry. My prayers are with you and your entire family.
Consider this time marked.
December 14th, 2008 at 12:01 am
Mrs Parks says:
In my heart.
December 14th, 2008 at 12:07 am
fancy feet says:
A good friend of mine marked time for me keeping a journal while I was in the hospital unable to mark time for myself. I’m telling you this because later, when I was able, I picked up the journal and read about that space in time I had little to no memory of and it meant so much to me – to see that someone had taken the time to mark time.
Time to this precious girl and her family will now always be divided. There will be a before and an after and it’s been recognized by you and it will mean something to them.
December 14th, 2008 at 12:17 am
Heather says:
Someday she will mark the time in her own way, a rememberance of that day that everything changed, and this will be a marker of that moment that she will never forget anyway. It helps that you took that moment to say “LISTEN”, because we all get wrapped up and don’t always notice, and noticing makes a huge difference.
December 14th, 2008 at 12:45 am
Mrs. B. Roth says:
Wow. It’s always good to be reminded – to remember the times in our own lives when it seemed cruel for the world to just keep going on in ignorance as your whole life flipped. And to pause for a moment for others.
December 14th, 2008 at 12:58 am
Sheila says:
I have a very very similar day marked in my mind – when my boyfriend’s deer stand collapsed, resulting in him becoming a quadriplegic on September 20, 2003.
The rest of the world does zoom by, but for those who have traveled a similar path… we stop with you. We know the struggles, the lessons, and all the ups and downs that come along with the result of this day.
December 14th, 2008 at 1:04 am
Coast Rat says:
Sorry to hear the news, Maggie. I mark time with you. Prayers and hugs to you all.
December 14th, 2008 at 1:12 am
noble pig says:
Oh geez Maggie, that is so awful. I can’t even fathom going through that as a parent. My gawd I have the chills. I am so very sorry.
December 14th, 2008 at 1:30 am
just beth says:
marked.
December 14th, 2008 at 2:04 am
vodkamom says:
I am so very,very sorry for you, your family, this beautiful soul and her family. I KNOW how it feels to have your world rocked. When my nephew was killed, I couldn’t believe that time had the NERVE to march on. But it does. And so we wake up, put our shoes on, and march that painful march with grief.
xoxox
December 14th, 2008 at 3:38 am
mtnhighmama says:
I am holding this time, and you all, in my heart. And I will shed some tears to mingle with those that have already been given and still wait to be given.
December 14th, 2008 at 6:07 am
Mommy Cracked says:
Thinking of her, her family, and you.
December 14th, 2008 at 7:12 am
For Myself says:
Amen.
December 14th, 2008 at 7:15 am
jodifur says:
Just so sorry for you and her and her family and friends. Just so sorry.
December 14th, 2008 at 7:38 am
Father Muskrat says:
I’ll gladly call cadence, since I’m in uniform today.
December 14th, 2008 at 7:38 am
Musing says:
I am so very sorry to hear this. My heart hurts for your family.
December 14th, 2008 at 8:03 am
derfina says:
I hope they know that for a moment, time stood still for us today, too. Your family will all be in my thoughts and prayers.
December 14th, 2008 at 8:18 am
Adventures In Babywearing says:
I am so very sorry. Will be praying. : )
Steph
December 14th, 2008 at 8:20 am
suze says:
I am so very sorry for your family.
December 14th, 2008 at 8:21 am
sam {temptingmama} says:
You’re all in my thoughts Maggie.
May she have the strength and perseverance for the days that come.
I am truly sorry to hear this.
xox
December 14th, 2008 at 8:40 am
O'Neal says:
First, my sympathy for you and your family. The tragedy before you all is one of those unfair unexplainable things that just happen with no definite why, and that sucks. But you are right, this is not a time for finding silver linings, or even answers, it is time to just be still and let the waves calm before you try to walk again.
You all will be in my prayers, this day, and every day!
December 14th, 2008 at 8:44 am
kris says:
Am here to witness, Maggie. For you and all your family. Wishing you strength and peace.
December 14th, 2008 at 8:53 am
Rhea says:
I want to leave a comment, to mark time with you, to let them know they’re not alone.
But, really, we can’t have the world stop to take notice of this horrible tragedy because if it did, it’d be to hard to start again. And again. And again. And that’s horrible.
I know something good will come out of this. It may not be obvious for a while, but something will.
December 14th, 2008 at 9:17 am
deezee says:
This is so sad, and you are so right. The world does go on, and that will be a giant hurt for those in the middle of this tragic accident.
You write about this so eloquently. I am so very sorry…
December 14th, 2008 at 9:25 am
Hilly says:
Marking time….that’s such a simple yet powerful thing.
I am so very sorry for what your family is going through.
December 14th, 2008 at 11:05 am
Alison Veres says:
I was just writing Christmas cards. Candle lit, incense burning, Charlie Brown’s Christmas playing quietly.
I’m going to go back now, and finish writing Christmas cards. I will keep the candle lit, and the incense burning, and the music playing.
I have you in my heart. I have your injured family member in my heart. I thank you for the courage you had to write about it, and the grace that came through in your words.
Here is what it means for me, right now, this moment: I accept all the pain and all the joy that life has to offer me. Every minute, every day. My eyes are open, my hands are open, my arms are outstretched.
I LOVE YOU. And I don’t even know you. I have never met you. Thank you for being in my world. I hear you. I hear all of you. And I won’t stop listening.
December 14th, 2008 at 11:11 am
blissfully caffeinated says:
So sorry. So very, very sorry.
December 14th, 2008 at 11:35 am
Slouching Mom says:
Oh, Maggie.
I’m so sorry, about her, her parents, you, and the rest of the family.
You are in my thoughts today.
December 14th, 2008 at 12:46 pm
tysdaddy says:
To those parents who will one day visit . . . today is a step . . . may you find peace . . .
December 14th, 2008 at 12:58 pm
Laurie | Your Ill-fitting Overcoat says:
I’m listening.
I don’t always know how to express it to people, but I always mark their tragedies in my heart, in some corner. I know that’s the worst of it, to think it just disappears. I make sure it’s there, somewhere.
December 14th, 2008 at 1:32 pm
Deb says:
I’m so sorry. I saw an accident outside my house last night, and my heart ached for the lives that were changed.
Time. Stands still. For now.
Marked.
December 14th, 2008 at 2:03 pm
won says:
I understand. Completely, honestly…from a place buried down deep within.
I felt the same way. How could the world be moving? I saw people’s mouths moving, their actions seem to be in slow motion and yet they carried on like any other day…as you describe.
I was angry. How could they? Did they not know the significance of the day?
My beloved…my girl, age eleven, had just taken her last breath in our home; therefore I understand the meaning of that which you write.
In an interesting juxtapostion, as you mention with the job loss/paralysis…..I wish my girl were here and paralzyed.
Loss is loss, pain is pain. I need not compare. I only identify.
I am sorry for the loss of a job, for the loss of movement, independence and all that comes with it….and the loss of the world as it was previously known.
Godspeed….
December 14th, 2008 at 2:24 pm
catnip says:
I’m so so sorry for your whole family Maggie. I’ll be counting my blessings tonight.
December 14th, 2008 at 2:45 pm
magpie says:
Oh. Ouch. Oh – best wishes to your family, and especially for her.
December 14th, 2008 at 5:02 pm
anymommy says:
I marked it, Maggie, with tears running down my face. I’m sorry.
December 14th, 2008 at 7:40 pm
Ms. Changes Pants While Driving says:
oh.
i wish them peace and strength. and humor.
December 14th, 2008 at 8:52 pm
Natalie says:
Consider this marked, this horrible, awful, life-changing experience is felt by people thousands of miles from you and yours.
I’m so sorry, Maggie and to whomever this post was meant for.
December 14th, 2008 at 10:15 pm
Heather says:
These days. There are collections of them in the closets of the mind. We should mark them, just as there happy opposites. The world became something it wasn’t and the is nothing…to…take…it…back. And that is the pain that shakes you for all that you are.
We remember.
December 14th, 2008 at 10:59 pm
Jennifer H says:
There aren’t words for news like that. Sending love.
December 14th, 2008 at 11:31 pm
Nora Bee says:
Amen.
December 15th, 2008 at 12:41 am
Blogger Dad says:
That might be the most powerful thing I’ve ever read. You have put words to something almost unthinkable. I hope they offer some strength and solace to those who they were meant. If not now, then in time.
My thoughts go out to you and your family.
December 15th, 2008 at 3:01 am
Pamela says:
Prayers for all of you.
December 15th, 2008 at 6:12 am
mamatulip says:
My heart is with you.
December 15th, 2008 at 6:33 am
patois says:
Yes, amen. My prayer tonight will include this woman. I don’t know who she is. But I know she matters.
December 15th, 2008 at 8:14 am
Amanda says:
A notch in my soul, forever.
December 15th, 2008 at 9:26 am
Xbox4NappyRash says:
Marked it is.
All my best.
December 15th, 2008 at 10:39 am
Gypsy says:
Oh no. I’m so very sorry.
December 15th, 2008 at 1:13 pm
AMR says:
Maggie,
I was so sorry to read about the tragedy. It is a cruel thing to think about the world going on, mostly oblivious to the absolute pain and forever-changed lives involved. Dear friends of ours unexplicably lost their two-year-old son a year ago. All I could think of while watching them and trying to grasp at something, anything to offer just the tiniest bit of comfort (impossible), was “how can people be going through drive-thrus right now, how can people be shopping right now? Do they not know this terrible thing that has occurred?” Prayers are with you.
December 15th, 2008 at 1:23 pm
OHmommy says:
I am so very sorry. My prayers are with you and her family.
December 15th, 2008 at 1:30 pm
HeatherPride says:
There are no words. I’m so sorry, for you, for your family, for everyone. I’m SO sorry. I will be thinking of you and praying for all of you.
December 15th, 2008 at 2:55 pm
jill says:
I know how it feels to get that phone call that changes everything, I’m sending a hug to her parents. It will be three years in Feb. sense we lost our daughter, and time is never the same again.
December 15th, 2008 at 2:57 pm
jen says:
oh honey. oh no.
December 15th, 2008 at 3:02 pm
Melissa says:
I usually wax poetic but I’ll certainly refrain as well.
I know other people have chimed in agreement, but it’s so true, isn’t it? About the world moving no matter what? My dad used to tell me that. That the world will never stop for your tragedies. I didn’t know what he meant until he died very suddenly and I couldn’t understand why I was moving in slow motion. Like the voices of people around me merged into one stream of nonsense. Like I was in a bell jar, looking out…
If they do come back and read this, I hope they know that they are not alone. It’s easy to feel alone in so much pain, and feel that way for so long. But they aren’t alone, you never are. I wish they could know that. I hurt to think they don’t know that.
Much love~
December 15th, 2008 at 5:31 pm
Jo says:
I’m sorry, Maggie, about it all. Stay hopeful, though. Medicine is advancing every day.
December 15th, 2008 at 5:55 pm
kel says:
My heart and prayers go out to the family.
~K
December 15th, 2008 at 6:40 pm
Sharon says:
I lost my job two weeks ago. I am so sick of talking about it, while appreciative of people’s well meaning “stuff”…but I always say it could be worse and I have nothing to complain about.
This is another example. Thank you for marking this that even strangers (like me) can stop in their tracks and count the blessings.
December 15th, 2008 at 6:52 pm
BiblioMom says:
It’s like how when I lost my Mom and then three weeks later I found out I was pregnant with my youngest daughter as I was preparing to leave my husband. Life just keeps moving forward. It’s a strange force.
My thoughts to you and your family.
December 15th, 2008 at 8:39 pm
Jim says:
I am so sorry to hear that. My thoughts go out to your family member and her parents and your family. Time stands still in our thoughts but they’re not enough to keep the world at bay.
Be well, all of you.
December 15th, 2008 at 9:39 pm
arizaphale says:
One never really knows what to say in the face of someone’s tragedy but you seem to have done it here.
December 15th, 2008 at 11:26 pm
Tina says:
Aw, Maggie. This is a powerful post. I’m so very sorry. My heart and prayers go out to this young girl and to all those who love her.
December 16th, 2008 at 12:23 am
Angel says:
Oh my heart is breaking for you, her, and her family. My prayers are with them all.
December 16th, 2008 at 4:05 am
Woman in a window says:
Ah, shit! shit!
My love and what prayers I can manage in my non-defined religious heart. but shit!
my prayers.
erin
December 16th, 2008 at 6:34 am
Tasses says:
Going about my day, sitting in a dr. office, checking feeds on my phone, thinking of that young woman and wishing for her family… Peace and Strength.
December 16th, 2008 at 7:01 am
ali says:
oh, Maggie, i don’t think there’s anything else to say other than…dammit.
my heart aches for you and your family.
December 16th, 2008 at 9:55 am
Crystal D says:
Praying for a miracle.
December 16th, 2008 at 10:58 am
Christy says:
It’s awful…I often wonder if there is ever a time as a parent when you can just breathe a sigh of relief b/c you’re over all the humps. When there’s not another worry around the corner–fear that something can come along at any moment and change life as you know it. I am sad for them.
December 16th, 2008 at 11:01 am
Captain Steve says:
Noted. I know. We’re all thinking praying hoping for the entire family.
December 16th, 2008 at 11:04 am
brookem says:
im so sorry to hear about your loved one.
first time here and i have to say, this post, so eloquent and well written, though about a tough subject indeed, will keep me coming back again.
my thoughts are with you and your family.
December 16th, 2008 at 11:26 am
viv says:
Maggie,
I am so sorry. Your family and the 24 year old girl are in my thoughts and prayers.
December 16th, 2008 at 11:32 am
Donovan says:
shit.
December 16th, 2008 at 12:12 pm
Okay, Fine, Dammit » Quite possibly the least upbeat post I have ever written. says:
[...] body out. My own mother’s face standing over my bed in the ER. The face I imagine her mother is wearing right now. I wish I could [...]
December 16th, 2008 at 12:26 pm
we_be_toys says:
Oh god, Maggie-
Those poor parents-
There is nothing to say but to mark this time with you, to share even a tiny bit of that grief. It’s every parent’s worst nightmare, isn’t it?
Thinking of you guys…
December 16th, 2008 at 2:34 pm
conversemomma says:
If you need anything, anything at all, I’m here. And more importantly, I’m sorry. So sorry, hon.
December 16th, 2008 at 6:17 pm
Lara says:
I will never forget the day my parents called me downstairs to tell me that my middle brother – 5 days away from his 21st birthday – had been in an accident and had a broken neck. I will never forget the day my mother called me on the phone, and told me that my sister’s oldest son, only 5 months past his 21st birthday, had also broken his neck, in a freak swimming accident.
But you know… both of these men are still living productive lives. My brother is self-sufficient, working as a computer programmer. My nephew is finishing college and has a very promising career planned as a translator. Prior to his accident? I think the most promising career goals he had involved something at McDonald’s.
When you think everything has changed, you’re right – it has. But everything hasn’t ended. I’m not trying to minimize your hurt here, but rather to give you a vision of hope. I am thankful every day that my brother and nephew survived their accidents. Our family reunions are a bit crowded with two wheelchairs, but they are always full of love and laughter, and that’s the most important part.
December 17th, 2008 at 9:43 am
Julie @ the calm before the stork says:
Awful. Painful. It is so hard not to worry about loss like this every day — when it happens, it’s like life has justified our worst fears. And then, people go on, because we have to.
If you get a chance, you might find this woman’s story inspiring: http://lyenastrelkoff.org. She’s an old friend of mine who fell and was paralyzed four years ago.
December 17th, 2008 at 10:00 am
Julie @ the calm before the stork says:
Old friend as in “long time,” not “lost touch with.” Oh well. Words.
December 17th, 2008 at 10:01 am
Aunt Deb says:
Thank-you for this post Maggie.
Please keep my beautiful daughter in your prayers. Pray that she can breath on her own, Pray that she will walk again. She is in God’s hands.
December 17th, 2008 at 3:54 pm
Karen MEG says:
My thoughts and prayers are with your family and this young woman …
December 17th, 2008 at 6:17 pm
kirie says:
So sorry about this news. I am just getting to know you as a reader of your blog, but I will mark the time with you, and take a moment. I pray with you and hope that the next days bring better news of her healing, and that your family is comforted when they need it most.
Kirie
December 18th, 2008 at 10:54 am
LaskiGal says:
I’m just adding my prayers. My thoughts.
Maggie, just know there are a lot of people out here thinking, hoping and praying for positive news . . . for you, for your family.
Take care, you . . .
December 18th, 2008 at 8:17 pm
meredithwinn says:
i’m so sorry. i’m sending loving thoughts your way. there is nothing else to say but sorry.
December 20th, 2008 at 9:45 pm
Prayer For Maggie, Ashley and All Those Who Have Challenges « By Their Fruits says:
[...] For Maggie, Ashley and All Those Who Have Challenges By walksintruth Reading about Maggie’s daughter Ashley’s accident prompted me to add this post. Maggie asks that we visit the CaringBridge [...]
December 21st, 2008 at 3:18 am
SECRET AGENT MAMA says:
My thoughts and prayers are with beautiful Ashely, and your whole family.
December 22nd, 2008 at 8:00 pm
Debbie says:
We all wonder what we’d do in this situation and know that we just couldn’t survive it, but we do. Every time you hear when a loved one has been tragically injured, your heart breaks in two. You pray, as I will, for them and then miraculously, as time passes, God gives them the strength to survive.
Christopher and Dana Reeves made remarkable efforts in this devasting trauma and I believe the hope is sooner than later for this to be treated. May God be with all of you as you mark the time until survival.
December 25th, 2008 at 2:14 pm
paul says:
i can offer no words just prayers… thankfully they don’t need to be coherent
December 29th, 2008 at 11:00 pm
Postmarc says:
This is only my second visit to your blog, and I apologize because I don’t know if I have earned the right to comment on such a deeply personal issue…
With this accident, I don’t know if we can ever get over the inner anger of losing all of the “before”.
And yet, the “after” is what it is, in all it’s sadness, uncomfortableness, and moments of almost guilty reflection on the “there but for the grace of God go I” feelings. And there are times when getting mad at God for a moment feels good. Yet, the painfulness of this accident is still defining its measure on all the intertwined lives. But we can push back so quiet celebration of life outweighs the wordless crush of anger over time.
When my father went through this, he surprised all of us, and none of us, by saying he was more fortunate than those who had died in accidents that day, or those still in a coma to this day. The marking of his day faded into simply how life is in the here and now. Though the family always has his mental and physical health concern on simmer, his acceptance and constant positive words help us more than we could ever describe. I don’t know that I would have that strength, but I wish the most powerful positive thoughts to your cousin and the family.
It will not be easy, but it will be what all around her help her to make it from that day forward.
January 1st, 2009 at 6:17 am
bluestreak says:
oh maggie i’m sorry.
January 4th, 2009 at 12:24 pm
Okay, Fine, Dammit » Close calls, untold stories and cosmic trades says:
[...] I’m always wondering, how many stories go untold? How many things don’t we hear about because they didn’t end in death or total devastation? How many do make the news, only to be forgotten a few weeks after they’ve evaporated from the headlines? Remember Chandra Levy? Remember Lacie Peterson? Remember that tragic car accident that happened a few blocks from your home and shook your entire community to the core? Remember my husband’s cousin, Ashley? [...]
May 7th, 2009 at 6:55 am