![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lagilmanComing just after the start of the Days of Awe, this year it's hitting me particularly hard -- and yet, it's so long ago now, in another life, another reality. Life goes on. The world changes, for better and for worse and while some things remain the same, you have to look harder to find them.
And yet I still remember the color of the sky, so impossibly clear blue, the shape of the plume of smoke, the smell of ash and the sound of the sirens that never seemed to stop. The flyers and photos taped to the sides of bus station shelters, families desperately searching for news of a miracle, or confirmation of pain, the pages weathering and fading slowly, until they were finally gone.
"There's holy pictures of our children/Dancin' in a sky filled with light"
That line from "The Rising" still makes me weep.
"Sorrow isn’t weakness, and those we love and remember never really die."
And yet I still remember the color of the sky, so impossibly clear blue, the shape of the plume of smoke, the smell of ash and the sound of the sirens that never seemed to stop. The flyers and photos taped to the sides of bus station shelters, families desperately searching for news of a miracle, or confirmation of pain, the pages weathering and fading slowly, until they were finally gone.
"There's holy pictures of our children/Dancin' in a sky filled with light"
That line from "The Rising" still makes me weep.
"Sorrow isn’t weakness, and those we love and remember never really die."
