Perched on Buderim Mountain with life going on as usual in paradise, I was glibly reminded of the time between my father’s gruesome death and his funeral. It was a no-man’s-land of emotional wreckage peppered by numbness.
This is what I thought of as I saw footage of the boats on sidewalks, the cars submerged in water, the fire’s and the black-outs. In New York. I don’t know why I love New York, yet I do. It seemed almost unreal to me. As if it was a movie. And so Sandy and the havoc she wreaked, seemed that way, too. Almost as if it must be a new release of the latest Spiderman, Batman or Avengers – and yet the Hero didn’t make the shoot in time to stop the devastation.
Just like death, it has taken a few days to sink in. What right do I have to grieve for those who have lost loved ones, for the homes, pets, belongings, businesses all washed away?
Is it even polite to view the devastation, like a voyeur peeping through some rain-splashed window at the scene of a brutal crime?
Quantum physics would have me believe that my thoughts of love, comfort and strength move to join a wave of compassion and courage. As the clean-up cranks to an organised movement for the restoration of order, that is what I will hold to, for there is little else that can make sense of the tragedy.
A light burns brightly down-under for New York the brave and the re-membering of New Jersey, I think of you, With Love.