There are beautiful pictures of three precious little girls surrounded by their friends and family on the page "friends who love Matt". They are literally breathtaking. When I am brave enough to go to that page and look, I actually feel my breath taken away. These girls were the embodiment of beauty and innocence. I feel with every picture I look at I get to know them each a little better, but it hurts so much...the pictures. I end up in tears, clutching my heart. I can spare myself this pain by simply not looking at the images. Madonna, Matt, all of their families and friends can't. The pictures are more than just digital images on a support page for them. The pictures are still vividly real in their minds and hearts. The pictures live inside them and while they call to mind happier days, they are also a constant reminder of all that was lost. Someday the pictures will bring more joy than sorrow, but today is not that day.
-------
When I was six years old we moved from the house I'd lived in since I was born to a new, bigger house a street over. I loved our "new" house which was actually a very large, hundred+ year old farm house with tons of character. Despite being happy with our sprawling back yard and my big bedroom, I never forgot my first house. I never stopped missing it. I always said when I "grew up" I would buy that house back.
Fast forward 20 years. My husband and I had been married three years and we had just purchased a small ranch style house on the outside of town. A "starter house" as it is said. It was a nice early spring day and I found myself driving past that childhood home when I saw a "for sale" sign out front. I literally had to pull over because I was shaking with excitement and a mix of other emotions. I called my husband who indulged my joy and said we could go look at the house. I just wanted to see the inside. I just wanted to look. Ha ha...yeah right. I wish the whole process was as easy as these three words, but either way the end result was the same: we bought it.
I sit in my "new" old house now which we have lived in for five years and I occasionally go through old pictures from when my family used to live here. I'll hold the picture up to the spot in the house where it was taken. The paint may be different, the floor coverings changed, but it certainly is the same spot. I can touch that wall, that window, stand against the backdrop where that photo of my grandmother and a five-year-old me was taken or in front of the window where that photo of my brother and I was taken - just children with our lives before us. I hold this little image on paper in my hands and even though I am looking at the same room, it is so incomprehensibly different. There is a strange incongruity between the reality of this room in that picture and the reality of this room now when I consider the vast ocean of time between the two. Everything is the same, yet everything is also so very different. Grandma passed away almost four years ago. My brother and I are no longer little children. The picture in my hand was taken just 3 feet away from me. I can sit in the same spot but even though things look the same, so much has changed. I can't return to the simplicity of being five years old or laugh with grandma about silly things. Its weird how time has changed so much while leaving so much exactly the same.
That is how I feel when I look at the beautiful pictures of your daughters. They are so real and innocent and happy. I cannot reconcile the images with reality, the fact that time has marched on - events happened as they did - and these photographs so full of life and joy are now sad reminders of all that is gone. Lily, Sarah and Grace are right there. I look at the pictures. I can hear the laughter if I close my eyes. I can feel the joy. Life looks so perfect, like the photo itself could come alive. It is a little snapshot of what was an ordinary day in ordinary lives such a short time ago but seems to be such a far away dream now.
I went to church tonight with my grandmother. I had not been to her church (we belong to different congregations) since Christmas eve. I thought back and recalled the anticipation and joy I had felt last time I was in this church. The recollection brought me to tears. In my mind I can see what I was doing that hour: trying to keep my three small kids moderately calm as we listened in the vestibule (by the time we arrived there was standing room only), feeling the powerful statement as "Santa" solemnly walked through the church and knelt to pray before the baby Jesus, excited for the fun party we would be attending later. I see it all like it was yesterday. I did not know the names Madonna and Matthew Badger then. Nor had I ever seen the innocent beauty of Lily, Sarah and Grace Badger. I had never heard of Lomer and Pauline Johnson. I still believed that tragedies of this magnitude could not happen, especially not on Christmas Eve. Looking out over the half-empty church tonight and thinking back, knowing how events would unfold later on that night, I was struck with an eerie loneliness. Gone was the joy, gone were the warm Christmas decorations, the vestibule - packed full a month ago - stood empty tonight. It was Chrstmas Eve and I had been so excited for the festivities of the next few days, but tonight all I felt was a heavy sadness. I stood this evening where I stood then, but despite all my prayers and wishes I cannot get back to that night. I can stand in the same spot but it is not the same. It was such a short time ago, but so much has changed. I can't find the rewind button. If I could....if only I could.
Time. The slickest criminal ever to exist. She can steal our memories, our beauty, our youth. She flies by when we want her to last, and moves like a snail when we want her to fly. In her deceptiveness she lull's us into forgetting she is so powerful that even just an hour, a minute, a second and she can change our lives forever. With one breath we are wishing her to go faster and in another we beg her to slow down, go back, stop. She can make us feel like we are in the past when in fact it is the present and she mocks us with this vast unknown we call the future. We complain about school, or work, or 3 am feedings, or screaming fights between the kids, or being so busy we can't see straight....now....knowing, though never fully realizing, how much we will wish for this time back....someday.
Time. A friend. She is the ultimate healer of wounds and fixer of mistakes. She possesses the magic potion for fading the bad from memory and leaving only the good up front. If you are patient with her, she will help. She gives us perspective and wisdom. She teaches us lessons no books can. She is comforting when we allow her space to work. She is sometimes the only one who can help.
Time. A wretched mistress. She eventually takes everything from us. She toys with us and tricks us. In the end she runs out on us, leaving us wondering where she went and holding nothing more than our memories. We look at pictures for comfort. They remind us of a happier day. But the bitter irony about pictures is that they also remind us that day has forever passed.
Your pictures are stunning. They are so real. They embody so much love. They fill me with joy and in the next heartbeat they fill me with sadness. I ache for all of the little moments of just being together that have been lost. So many lives changed forever. I look at the pictures despite all the pain it causes me because the pictures bring these little angels to life for me. I may have never crossed paths with Lily, Sarah or Grace Badger in this lifetime - I may never cross paths with any of the Badgers or Johnson's - but I know and love you all now (even if it is through this very tragic window) and will forever.
My sad, sad heart is beats every other beat for you both because the pain you must be feeling is too much for your hearts to carry alone.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Love, eternal
I was flying home tonight from Phoenix and we had a brief layover in Newark. As we gently glided in to land, the city loomed out the window to my left. I looked at the sea of buildings, cars, and people: life buzzing wildly about. I thought of you, somewhere down there, a woman whose world has stopped turning even as life goes on outside your window. I thought how cruel it is to you. It adds insult to injury that after losing all that matters in your life, the world asks you to keep living, we ask you to keep breathing, the world keeps spinning.
My four year old daughter came in my room as I was packing last week and asked what I was doing. I told her daddy and I were going away and she was going to Grammy's but we would see each other after "four sleeps".
"Who will make sure I get to school?" she asked.
"I will," I answered.
"Who will make sure I get to dance class?"
"Me," was my reply.
"Who will make sure nobody messes up my dolls while I am at Grammy's?"
"I will, of course."
She began to walk away, but obviously unsatisfied, turned back and asked,
"How can you do all those things if you are away?"
Without thinking much about the answer I quickly replied,
"Its just what I do, it's my job to take care of you no matter where you are and no matter where I am."
I thought about that conversation a lot on my long flight and with all my quiet time, I also thought of you. I don't think I fully realized the commitment I was making when I decided to have children. I was excited of course, we planned, prepped, doted, nested and so on. I just don't think I "got it" until I "felt it". That love we have for our kids, it's so intense, and with such intense love comes the risk of such intense pain. Motherhood is more than a life-long job, it is really an eternal job. We sign an unspoken contract the moment we decide to bring a life into the world; we agree to love, guide and help our children shine forever, eternally. It can be the most rewarding job we will ever have, but it is grueling, difficult, and can be down right heart-wrenching work. We can't be fired and we can't quit even when we want to. The job description changes over time but it is always our job - in this world and the next - to love forever. Joyous and fun sometimes, thankless and painful other times. Then there are those rare occasions - after enduring loss as you have - when this job can tear a mother apart then expect her to continue to live and love through unspeakable grief, waiting for answers that may never fully come.
Your's is not my tragedy, though my heart has adopted it. I can't begin to imagine how you feel. I don't pretend to think words help. It's just all I can do - think and write. In good faith we supporters send you prayers and hope for a future where there is some kind of peace and happiness again. I honestly don't know if you will find that, but I hope with every fiber of my being that you will. What I do believe is that you still have work to do. There is an ending to this story, but this is not it. It can't be it. You have to spread the light they left here. I realize how much it is to ask you to survive when every day, every hour, every minute, every second is excruciating. It is devastating to be the one left behind but I just think there are too many people who love you for there to be anymore people left behind. There has been too much sadness and loss for there to be anymore as a result of that tragic night. I know it will take ungodly strength to get through, but I believe if you can get there you will be rewarded - here or in the hereafter. (or both)
You suffer greatly and what's worse is that so many are watching you suffer. Some are eager to help but unable to, some are judgmental and harsh. Being the center of attention must add to your strife - accosted on one side by ignorant people who seek to further wound you with their words, smothered by love and praise on the other side by those who are so filled with empathy, sympathy, and sadness. And right in the middle you exist in some kind of limbo, laden with grief, uncertain of what your future is or if there even is a future at all.
You are broken. Your heart and soul are broken. You have been shattered into a million pieces and the work of putting all those pieces back together may seem impossible. It will take the help of everyone you know. One fragment at a time. One hour at a time. One breath at a time. Then some day when all those pieces are back in place, held together with nothing more than love, the world will see there is beauty in being broken. Because when your heart and soul are filled with cracks and holes there is a brilliant light that is able to shine through every part of you. ~***Light***~ I beg you to hang on through the darkness and let your story end with light.
My four year old daughter came in my room as I was packing last week and asked what I was doing. I told her daddy and I were going away and she was going to Grammy's but we would see each other after "four sleeps".
"Who will make sure I get to school?" she asked.
"I will," I answered.
"Who will make sure I get to dance class?"
"Me," was my reply.
"Who will make sure nobody messes up my dolls while I am at Grammy's?"
"I will, of course."
She began to walk away, but obviously unsatisfied, turned back and asked,
"How can you do all those things if you are away?"
Without thinking much about the answer I quickly replied,
"Its just what I do, it's my job to take care of you no matter where you are and no matter where I am."
I thought about that conversation a lot on my long flight and with all my quiet time, I also thought of you. I don't think I fully realized the commitment I was making when I decided to have children. I was excited of course, we planned, prepped, doted, nested and so on. I just don't think I "got it" until I "felt it". That love we have for our kids, it's so intense, and with such intense love comes the risk of such intense pain. Motherhood is more than a life-long job, it is really an eternal job. We sign an unspoken contract the moment we decide to bring a life into the world; we agree to love, guide and help our children shine forever, eternally. It can be the most rewarding job we will ever have, but it is grueling, difficult, and can be down right heart-wrenching work. We can't be fired and we can't quit even when we want to. The job description changes over time but it is always our job - in this world and the next - to love forever. Joyous and fun sometimes, thankless and painful other times. Then there are those rare occasions - after enduring loss as you have - when this job can tear a mother apart then expect her to continue to live and love through unspeakable grief, waiting for answers that may never fully come.
Your's is not my tragedy, though my heart has adopted it. I can't begin to imagine how you feel. I don't pretend to think words help. It's just all I can do - think and write. In good faith we supporters send you prayers and hope for a future where there is some kind of peace and happiness again. I honestly don't know if you will find that, but I hope with every fiber of my being that you will. What I do believe is that you still have work to do. There is an ending to this story, but this is not it. It can't be it. You have to spread the light they left here. I realize how much it is to ask you to survive when every day, every hour, every minute, every second is excruciating. It is devastating to be the one left behind but I just think there are too many people who love you for there to be anymore people left behind. There has been too much sadness and loss for there to be anymore as a result of that tragic night. I know it will take ungodly strength to get through, but I believe if you can get there you will be rewarded - here or in the hereafter. (or both)
You suffer greatly and what's worse is that so many are watching you suffer. Some are eager to help but unable to, some are judgmental and harsh. Being the center of attention must add to your strife - accosted on one side by ignorant people who seek to further wound you with their words, smothered by love and praise on the other side by those who are so filled with empathy, sympathy, and sadness. And right in the middle you exist in some kind of limbo, laden with grief, uncertain of what your future is or if there even is a future at all.
You are broken. Your heart and soul are broken. You have been shattered into a million pieces and the work of putting all those pieces back together may seem impossible. It will take the help of everyone you know. One fragment at a time. One hour at a time. One breath at a time. Then some day when all those pieces are back in place, held together with nothing more than love, the world will see there is beauty in being broken. Because when your heart and soul are filled with cracks and holes there is a brilliant light that is able to shine through every part of you. ~***Light***~ I beg you to hang on through the darkness and let your story end with light.
Friday, January 27, 2012
Just breathe
Sometimes a small, insignificant event causes the ripples that can change the world. But sometimes it is the other way around. Sometimes it is a monumental, cataclysmic event that causes seemingly small ripples which eventually change the world. We are not omniscient beings so we have no way of knowing how waiting for the next elevator could change not only our own life, but potentially that of many others as well. A missed plane, an unsolicited, but much-needed hug or compliment, a right turn instead of a left turn, maybe even the shoes we choose to wear that morning. A cause and effect chain is set into place and we have no idea where it will end or whether the outcome will be positive or negative.
So while it is a tired phrase repeated in times of great sorrow, "everything happens for a reason" is a true story I think. I read once that the hardest part of that phrase is waiting for the reason to appear. A good friend lost four family members in a plane crash 9 years ago - her mother, sister, brother and brother-in-law. This tragic accident occurred before I knew her. But on the 9 year anniversary she shared a story about her journey. After the crash she lost many of her close friends. They did not know how to be around her. She gradually found a new circle of friends and met her husband in that group. He too had lost a brother and his father early in life. They have two beautiful children now and she knows she is where she is supposed to be in life though it is not the destination she had in mind when she began. The losses still hurt, but she is happy. She believes that had things happened differently, she would not have met her husband.
I'm sure many on this page can offer similar stories of ways - both small and large - that you have impacted their lives already. But since I can only speak for myself, that is what I will do.
I was raised Catholic. I believed strongly in my faith through my youth and even through my teens. I can't say I ever stopped believing, though I slowly began to question things quite seriously. The concepts of an eternal life, God, heaven, a higher purpose or plan - these are all very intangible and easy to discount in a world where tangible proof is everything. Faith is hard; by definition it is the act of believing without proof. Its not so much that I ever stopped believing as much as I started doubting. What if this is it? What if there is no heaven? No greater purpose? I have wrestled with these thoughts the past few years.
In early December a friend lost her 3 month old son very suddenly. My son was 5 months at the time and I was touched incredibly by her loss. She and her husband have a very strong faith and belong to a strong Christian community. So, naturally through the weeks that followed his passing, I saw firsthand that powerful faith in action. She is surviving and is unwavering in her trust in God. I was encouraged by her words of hope after his death as well as by the words of her husband, who as his son was nestled softly in his mother's arms taking his final breaths told him: "it's ok to let go and go with God." I envied their faith and began to examine what I was lacking. How could they not be angry? How could they be so sure that God had their son?
Just as I was beginning to feel happiness again after all the sadness I felt for my friend, I heard of your unthinkable story. Like many out there, you have not left my mind or heart since Christmas day. I doubt you ever will. Some out there may think that is a silly thing for me to say. They may think "In another month or two you will have moved on with your life, away from the immediacy of this tragedy and Madonna will be just another stranger as she always has been." I disagree. I don't think you spend 30 days (and counting) deeply grieving for people you have never met without being changed forever by the experience.
Initially, I was consumed by your story and still very broken from my friend's loss. It seemed religion was always on my mind. What God could do this? Are these babies happy and safe in heaven, waiting for their parents? I believed, but more because the alternative was too grim than because I was actually convinced. I decided to be more proactive regarding my faith and the questions I have instead of allowing the arguments of logistics, proof and probability to continue to control me. So as any person seeking answers might do, I read. A lot. This is not a sermon. Religion is a very personal matter and I'm not here to tell you to believe or not to believe. But in my personal quest for knowledge following these devastating losses, I have begun to reaffirm my faith. I don't think something like this can happen without there being the hand of a higher power at play. It is too tragic to just be an accident. I understand thats easier to say than to accept. It's one thing for me to turn raindrops into diamonds, to spout and believe the rhetoric that "there is a reason for your suffering." I am certain it would be another matter entirely were I in your shoes. I would be broken and angry and bitter. I would curse life, I would curse God, I would doubt there is a God who could put one of His children through such suffering. I think that is how you should feel. I think that is expected. Nobody expects you to stand up and say "I will carry on and be strong, God has a bigger plan for me." It is not your job to be magnanimous. It is not your job to be strong and to believe.
Your job is to fall apart. To cry. To be angry. Let it out. Writhe on the floor in agony. Bang your fists on the wall. You (I hope) have people who will surround you until time gives you some relief, some comfort, some perspective. I get that you want to give up. Who wouldn't? It's not your job to WANT to go on. It's your job just to let loved ones surround you every second of every day - let them care for your every need, let them cry with you - until you CAN go on.
So here is my little ripple. In all of my reading I stumbled across this book called "Heaven is for Real". I had heard about it, discounted it and forgot about it. Several people have recommended it to you on this page so I read it along with many other articles and books. I'm not sure what to think of the book in it's entirety, but it has given me hope. Indirectly, your story has helped me find my faith again - odd as that sounds. I'm never going to be openly vocal about my faith. It's not me. But I have made it more of a priority in our family. I have three small kids who up until now aside from dragging them to my (to be polite)not-so-child-friendly Catholic service every week or so I have spent very little time fostering religion in their little lives. I was raising them (or trying) to be good people. But now we pray. We pray for a multitude of things including the Badgers and Johnson's. I have found some child-friendly Bible stories. We talk about God and heaven, but more importantly we talk about being a good person, loving others, treating others as we want to be and so on. Before I would tell them "don't do that it's not nice." now we talk about why it isn't nice. Not exactly history-changing stuff here you may think. But just what if this small change I made in my parenting because of you ends up making a big impact on who my kids turn out to be? What if instead of growing up to be selfish or apathetic they now grow up to be caring and selfless people who do change the world? What if they now will have a stronger moral compass? Who knows? They may have grown to be good people (or bad people) regardless. Maybe religion won't make a difference at all for them one way or the other. The point is that it could make a difference. Is it a stretch? Maybe, but tiny insignificant ripples turn into tidal waves every day. I would imagine some small ripple started by you and your girls and your parents is already changing this world as I write. As for my ripple: you made me a better parent.
I find myself doing the "before and after thing". My husband said something about the family reunion this past August and I thought "the Badgers and Johnson's were still so happy then, they had no clue how their lives would be altered." I think of your girls playing, hair shining in the summer sun. It is so hard to leave the past in the past. There is so much to remind you I'm sure, everywhere you look. Just breath. Just keep breathing. Let your friends and loved ones carry you. We "strangers" will keep praying. We will keep hoping. You do not have to put on a brave face and show the world you are surviving. You do not have to accept this with courage and strength. You do not have to go out and change the world to bring meaning and good from this tragedy, I believe THAT is already happening. People are paying it forward, doing acts of kindness, service in the name of love - in the name of Lily, Sarah and Grace. All you have to do is survive. Even though it must be the most excruciating thing for you to do, just breathe.
So while it is a tired phrase repeated in times of great sorrow, "everything happens for a reason" is a true story I think. I read once that the hardest part of that phrase is waiting for the reason to appear. A good friend lost four family members in a plane crash 9 years ago - her mother, sister, brother and brother-in-law. This tragic accident occurred before I knew her. But on the 9 year anniversary she shared a story about her journey. After the crash she lost many of her close friends. They did not know how to be around her. She gradually found a new circle of friends and met her husband in that group. He too had lost a brother and his father early in life. They have two beautiful children now and she knows she is where she is supposed to be in life though it is not the destination she had in mind when she began. The losses still hurt, but she is happy. She believes that had things happened differently, she would not have met her husband.
I'm sure many on this page can offer similar stories of ways - both small and large - that you have impacted their lives already. But since I can only speak for myself, that is what I will do.
I was raised Catholic. I believed strongly in my faith through my youth and even through my teens. I can't say I ever stopped believing, though I slowly began to question things quite seriously. The concepts of an eternal life, God, heaven, a higher purpose or plan - these are all very intangible and easy to discount in a world where tangible proof is everything. Faith is hard; by definition it is the act of believing without proof. Its not so much that I ever stopped believing as much as I started doubting. What if this is it? What if there is no heaven? No greater purpose? I have wrestled with these thoughts the past few years.
In early December a friend lost her 3 month old son very suddenly. My son was 5 months at the time and I was touched incredibly by her loss. She and her husband have a very strong faith and belong to a strong Christian community. So, naturally through the weeks that followed his passing, I saw firsthand that powerful faith in action. She is surviving and is unwavering in her trust in God. I was encouraged by her words of hope after his death as well as by the words of her husband, who as his son was nestled softly in his mother's arms taking his final breaths told him: "it's ok to let go and go with God." I envied their faith and began to examine what I was lacking. How could they not be angry? How could they be so sure that God had their son?
Just as I was beginning to feel happiness again after all the sadness I felt for my friend, I heard of your unthinkable story. Like many out there, you have not left my mind or heart since Christmas day. I doubt you ever will. Some out there may think that is a silly thing for me to say. They may think "In another month or two you will have moved on with your life, away from the immediacy of this tragedy and Madonna will be just another stranger as she always has been." I disagree. I don't think you spend 30 days (and counting) deeply grieving for people you have never met without being changed forever by the experience.
Initially, I was consumed by your story and still very broken from my friend's loss. It seemed religion was always on my mind. What God could do this? Are these babies happy and safe in heaven, waiting for their parents? I believed, but more because the alternative was too grim than because I was actually convinced. I decided to be more proactive regarding my faith and the questions I have instead of allowing the arguments of logistics, proof and probability to continue to control me. So as any person seeking answers might do, I read. A lot. This is not a sermon. Religion is a very personal matter and I'm not here to tell you to believe or not to believe. But in my personal quest for knowledge following these devastating losses, I have begun to reaffirm my faith. I don't think something like this can happen without there being the hand of a higher power at play. It is too tragic to just be an accident. I understand thats easier to say than to accept. It's one thing for me to turn raindrops into diamonds, to spout and believe the rhetoric that "there is a reason for your suffering." I am certain it would be another matter entirely were I in your shoes. I would be broken and angry and bitter. I would curse life, I would curse God, I would doubt there is a God who could put one of His children through such suffering. I think that is how you should feel. I think that is expected. Nobody expects you to stand up and say "I will carry on and be strong, God has a bigger plan for me." It is not your job to be magnanimous. It is not your job to be strong and to believe.
Your job is to fall apart. To cry. To be angry. Let it out. Writhe on the floor in agony. Bang your fists on the wall. You (I hope) have people who will surround you until time gives you some relief, some comfort, some perspective. I get that you want to give up. Who wouldn't? It's not your job to WANT to go on. It's your job just to let loved ones surround you every second of every day - let them care for your every need, let them cry with you - until you CAN go on.
So here is my little ripple. In all of my reading I stumbled across this book called "Heaven is for Real". I had heard about it, discounted it and forgot about it. Several people have recommended it to you on this page so I read it along with many other articles and books. I'm not sure what to think of the book in it's entirety, but it has given me hope. Indirectly, your story has helped me find my faith again - odd as that sounds. I'm never going to be openly vocal about my faith. It's not me. But I have made it more of a priority in our family. I have three small kids who up until now aside from dragging them to my (to be polite)not-so-child-friendly Catholic service every week or so I have spent very little time fostering religion in their little lives. I was raising them (or trying) to be good people. But now we pray. We pray for a multitude of things including the Badgers and Johnson's. I have found some child-friendly Bible stories. We talk about God and heaven, but more importantly we talk about being a good person, loving others, treating others as we want to be and so on. Before I would tell them "don't do that it's not nice." now we talk about why it isn't nice. Not exactly history-changing stuff here you may think. But just what if this small change I made in my parenting because of you ends up making a big impact on who my kids turn out to be? What if instead of growing up to be selfish or apathetic they now grow up to be caring and selfless people who do change the world? What if they now will have a stronger moral compass? Who knows? They may have grown to be good people (or bad people) regardless. Maybe religion won't make a difference at all for them one way or the other. The point is that it could make a difference. Is it a stretch? Maybe, but tiny insignificant ripples turn into tidal waves every day. I would imagine some small ripple started by you and your girls and your parents is already changing this world as I write. As for my ripple: you made me a better parent.
I find myself doing the "before and after thing". My husband said something about the family reunion this past August and I thought "the Badgers and Johnson's were still so happy then, they had no clue how their lives would be altered." I think of your girls playing, hair shining in the summer sun. It is so hard to leave the past in the past. There is so much to remind you I'm sure, everywhere you look. Just breath. Just keep breathing. Let your friends and loved ones carry you. We "strangers" will keep praying. We will keep hoping. You do not have to put on a brave face and show the world you are surviving. You do not have to accept this with courage and strength. You do not have to go out and change the world to bring meaning and good from this tragedy, I believe THAT is already happening. People are paying it forward, doing acts of kindness, service in the name of love - in the name of Lily, Sarah and Grace. All you have to do is survive. Even though it must be the most excruciating thing for you to do, just breathe.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Because Surviving Matters
When I was younger I was afraid of a lot of things. Let's face it, there are a lot of things to fear in this world. As a child my biggest fear was something happening to my parents. As an adolescent I was terrified of being abducted. I know, kind of weird, but it was a real concern for me. Later my biggest fear was being buried alive (I watched too much t.v.). There are any number of things to fear and I think everyone is afraid of something.
But, I don't think a person knows real fear until he or she has a child. The moment you hold that little person that you created, that you are responsible for, this tiny baby who is completely dependent on you - that is when you feel it. You love your child in a way that is unparalleled to other love. You immediately are aware of all of the ways this baby can be hurt and it is terrifying. Nothing that happens to you is as scary as something happening to your child. I believe that is why so many of us are captivated by your story. You are the embodiment of our biggest fears. We watch with bated breath to see how and if you are coping with something that is beyond the scope of understanding for the human heart.
I realize the world has no shortage of those who are suffering. I know there are places in this world where unspeakable atrocities against humanity are a matter of daily occurrence. I know there is violence, and hatred, and evil, and danger everywhere we look. So why has your tragedy taken root in my heart? I guess because while many of the terrible things that happen around the world cause me great sorrow, it is hard to relate to them on a personal level. Your story hits very close to home. I have three kids, a nice home in suburbia, we burn wood everyday in the cold months. I can relate to this. This could be me.
Tragedies occur everyday. We hear of them and say our prayers, shake our heads, think "how awful?" But your story is different. The "perfect storm" of tragedies: to lose your children, Madonna - your parents as well, on Christmas Eve, and in such a manner - the details of which need no recounting. To have everything that matters taken so quickly. Madonna, to be unable to help despite Herculean effort or Matt, to not be there when the event occurred. The point is, I look at you both and see not just one of my greatest fears reflected in your eyes, but all of my greatest fears - every one of them happening simultaneously and it is frightening.
We live in a world, in a time when we are used to being able to fix things and fix them fast. But there is no "fixing" this and certainly nothing fast about the healing process. Those who surround you can try to slow your hemorrhaging hearts, they can stand by you every step of the way until the bleeding stops, until the wounds begin to heal, until all you have are your scars, but the scars will not go away. They will always be with you to remind you of your suffering and I think there is some good in that. The scars will remind you that pain of that magnitude is a product of love that is even stronger. The scars can help you remember all that love. The only things worth having are the things that hurt so much to lose...the losses (temporary though they are) that leave scars on our hearts.
Our fears are born because of two reasons: either its the pain/danger potentially associated with the act or we value something and don't want it taken - our lives, our things, our loved ones. So what does a person do when the biggest fear in her life is that she no longer fears anything? When you lose everything, when you have experienced the greatest of all pains, when surviving the unimaginable becomes the biggest curse - what does a person do when he feels nothing else matters? Well we are all waiting and watching. I am hoping there are those able to show you both in time that there are still things that matter. Spreading that Love that is the legacy of your children matters. Living fully until the day you can hold them again matters. Surviving matters. It matters to me - a stranger who has seen her greatest fears come to life in your experience; it matters because if this can happen to anyone - if this can happen to me - I want to believe a person can survive it. You matter to me.
But, I don't think a person knows real fear until he or she has a child. The moment you hold that little person that you created, that you are responsible for, this tiny baby who is completely dependent on you - that is when you feel it. You love your child in a way that is unparalleled to other love. You immediately are aware of all of the ways this baby can be hurt and it is terrifying. Nothing that happens to you is as scary as something happening to your child. I believe that is why so many of us are captivated by your story. You are the embodiment of our biggest fears. We watch with bated breath to see how and if you are coping with something that is beyond the scope of understanding for the human heart.
I realize the world has no shortage of those who are suffering. I know there are places in this world where unspeakable atrocities against humanity are a matter of daily occurrence. I know there is violence, and hatred, and evil, and danger everywhere we look. So why has your tragedy taken root in my heart? I guess because while many of the terrible things that happen around the world cause me great sorrow, it is hard to relate to them on a personal level. Your story hits very close to home. I have three kids, a nice home in suburbia, we burn wood everyday in the cold months. I can relate to this. This could be me.
Tragedies occur everyday. We hear of them and say our prayers, shake our heads, think "how awful?" But your story is different. The "perfect storm" of tragedies: to lose your children, Madonna - your parents as well, on Christmas Eve, and in such a manner - the details of which need no recounting. To have everything that matters taken so quickly. Madonna, to be unable to help despite Herculean effort or Matt, to not be there when the event occurred. The point is, I look at you both and see not just one of my greatest fears reflected in your eyes, but all of my greatest fears - every one of them happening simultaneously and it is frightening.
We live in a world, in a time when we are used to being able to fix things and fix them fast. But there is no "fixing" this and certainly nothing fast about the healing process. Those who surround you can try to slow your hemorrhaging hearts, they can stand by you every step of the way until the bleeding stops, until the wounds begin to heal, until all you have are your scars, but the scars will not go away. They will always be with you to remind you of your suffering and I think there is some good in that. The scars will remind you that pain of that magnitude is a product of love that is even stronger. The scars can help you remember all that love. The only things worth having are the things that hurt so much to lose...the losses (temporary though they are) that leave scars on our hearts.
Our fears are born because of two reasons: either its the pain/danger potentially associated with the act or we value something and don't want it taken - our lives, our things, our loved ones. So what does a person do when the biggest fear in her life is that she no longer fears anything? When you lose everything, when you have experienced the greatest of all pains, when surviving the unimaginable becomes the biggest curse - what does a person do when he feels nothing else matters? Well we are all waiting and watching. I am hoping there are those able to show you both in time that there are still things that matter. Spreading that Love that is the legacy of your children matters. Living fully until the day you can hold them again matters. Surviving matters. It matters to me - a stranger who has seen her greatest fears come to life in your experience; it matters because if this can happen to anyone - if this can happen to me - I want to believe a person can survive it. You matter to me.
Friday, January 20, 2012
When Fate Makes You A Hero
Oh heart, how you break for these families. Oh thoughts how you are plagued by their pain. Oh sadness how you overwhelm me.
Matthew and Madonna Badger continue to occupy my thoughts. I have resigned myself to the idea that I have turned this blog (which nobody reads) into a journal of sorts. Make no mistake, I am not sitting here in Upstate New York dwelling in depression, obsessing to the neglect of my life. But during my days I occasionally stop and think of Matthew and Madonna, their families and friends, the girls, all their little friends (how very sad and scary for other little children) and all they are enduring. I read the supportive thoughts of others and once in a while, when everyone is asleep in my house, I put my thoughts into words because it is cathartic. At night when I close my eyes, I think of my day. I think of my troubles and struggles and then I remember. I remember none of it really matters, none of it is that bad. I think of the Badgers. Sometimes it is just for a moment or two and sometimes my tears put me to sleep.
I have children. I am human. I empathize. I have erred in judgment before and been lucky that stars aligned and things worked out. Close calls - we all have them. As a compassionate person I hurt for these people whom fate has had other plans for. Because on any given day any one of us could be faced with a tragedy. The realization that we have very little control over anything that happens is the scariest part of this life.
------
Matthew and Madonna,
Thrust into notoriety not for your life's accomplishments but for an unspeakable tragedy. Praised as courageous warriors with uncommon strength for your perseverance beneath the weight of such agony. Called heroes. Labeled inspiring, uplifting, selfless as you comfort others in your time of sorrow. Unwittingly you have become poster people teaching lessons in appreciating what we have and fire prevention. Examples of how quickly "it all can change." You are the faces of incomprehensible sadness yet unwavering hope and love. Your children (and Madonna) your parents, have taken residence in the hearts of thousands around the world. Their images etched in our thoughts - angels we all will look for if we are lucky enough to enter the gates of Heaven one day. This is all true and so very sad.
I'm sure you wish the world did not know your names. That you did not have to find the strength to carry on with so much heartache. That you were still just normal people, just mom and dad, just renowned in your professional lives. Just going about life - day to day - enjoying the devilish ways of three mischievous little girls instead of holding onto the memory of their angelic faces.
No words to offer comfort. Tune out the negative and carry on brave, broken warriors. Get a little stronger every day. One day the memories will bring joy and not just pain I hope. I will support you Matthew in the establishment of your foundation, please keep us posted. I hold the artistic programs for kids very near to my heart...even more so now when I see the pictures and read stories of these little girls: free spirits that flourished in such programs.
You are strong, even when you are writhing on the floor in pain. You are strong not because you never fall, but because you keep getting up. You are brave heroes, graceful, admired and loved immeasurably; you are wonderful people inside and out. These are truths the world is just now learning. Qualities the world is just now seeing. Maybe on your bad days you feel undeserving of the praise. But these are not new truths. You have always been all of these things. In the eyes of three precious little girls you were - you are - all of these things and more. Lily, Sarah and Grace are showing the world the character of the parents they love so deeply.
Much love to you both
Matthew and Madonna Badger continue to occupy my thoughts. I have resigned myself to the idea that I have turned this blog (which nobody reads) into a journal of sorts. Make no mistake, I am not sitting here in Upstate New York dwelling in depression, obsessing to the neglect of my life. But during my days I occasionally stop and think of Matthew and Madonna, their families and friends, the girls, all their little friends (how very sad and scary for other little children) and all they are enduring. I read the supportive thoughts of others and once in a while, when everyone is asleep in my house, I put my thoughts into words because it is cathartic. At night when I close my eyes, I think of my day. I think of my troubles and struggles and then I remember. I remember none of it really matters, none of it is that bad. I think of the Badgers. Sometimes it is just for a moment or two and sometimes my tears put me to sleep.
I have children. I am human. I empathize. I have erred in judgment before and been lucky that stars aligned and things worked out. Close calls - we all have them. As a compassionate person I hurt for these people whom fate has had other plans for. Because on any given day any one of us could be faced with a tragedy. The realization that we have very little control over anything that happens is the scariest part of this life.
------
Matthew and Madonna,
Thrust into notoriety not for your life's accomplishments but for an unspeakable tragedy. Praised as courageous warriors with uncommon strength for your perseverance beneath the weight of such agony. Called heroes. Labeled inspiring, uplifting, selfless as you comfort others in your time of sorrow. Unwittingly you have become poster people teaching lessons in appreciating what we have and fire prevention. Examples of how quickly "it all can change." You are the faces of incomprehensible sadness yet unwavering hope and love. Your children (and Madonna) your parents, have taken residence in the hearts of thousands around the world. Their images etched in our thoughts - angels we all will look for if we are lucky enough to enter the gates of Heaven one day. This is all true and so very sad.
I'm sure you wish the world did not know your names. That you did not have to find the strength to carry on with so much heartache. That you were still just normal people, just mom and dad, just renowned in your professional lives. Just going about life - day to day - enjoying the devilish ways of three mischievous little girls instead of holding onto the memory of their angelic faces.
No words to offer comfort. Tune out the negative and carry on brave, broken warriors. Get a little stronger every day. One day the memories will bring joy and not just pain I hope. I will support you Matthew in the establishment of your foundation, please keep us posted. I hold the artistic programs for kids very near to my heart...even more so now when I see the pictures and read stories of these little girls: free spirits that flourished in such programs.
You are strong, even when you are writhing on the floor in pain. You are strong not because you never fall, but because you keep getting up. You are brave heroes, graceful, admired and loved immeasurably; you are wonderful people inside and out. These are truths the world is just now learning. Qualities the world is just now seeing. Maybe on your bad days you feel undeserving of the praise. But these are not new truths. You have always been all of these things. In the eyes of three precious little girls you were - you are - all of these things and more. Lily, Sarah and Grace are showing the world the character of the parents they love so deeply.
Much love to you both
Monday, January 16, 2012
Other Madonna Badger support posts
These are other posts I've written for the support page. I just don't want to forget my thoughts and hope and pain. Time has a way of making us forget things: it's a blessing and a curse. I just want to be able to look back and remember how deeply I felt for someone I don't know.
----------
I ache for you and those who love you. Its unfathomable and unfair. I also am one of the many strangers who have not stopped thinking of you all week. I just sit here and cry as a mother, as a daughter, as a person. I pray you find comfort and peace someday. You have suffered. And you will suffer more. But one day hopefully many years from now, your suffering will end. On that day you will be rewarded for all of your pain. I'm not crazy religious, I just have to believe that. I have to believe God needed 5 amazing angels in heaven and 3 very special little ambassadors were chosen to be accompanied by two wonderful, loving grandparents. By all accounts you are an incredibly strong woman. Maybe God knew you could ultimately handle this tragedy whereas most could not. Maybe He knew you could go on until the day you are rewarded so immeasurably in heaven. The day your pain began they entered what I have to believe is a place beautiful beyond comprehension and together they will wait for you. Heaven's gain is always our loss. I have seen the pictures of your family and am grateful that now I know what 5 angels look like. They were too good and pure and perfect for the pain of this earth and will forever be good and pure and perfect now. From a heart-broken mother and daughter in Western New York.
-----------
Jennifer Bierl MorganSupport Madonna Badger & Family
I posted my thoughts for Madonna last night - it's easy as a mother to get lost in my sadness for another mother. But I neglected to express my grief for Matthew as well. I don't know you and I did not know your beautiful little girls. But what I do know is that they brightened the life of everyone who knew them (it's just what children do) that they were loved and they loved back and because of that alone they made this world a better place. I am grateful for loving parents who raise wonderful children and share them with our world if only for a short time :*(
Hang onto your love; I believe it's the one thing that not even death can take from you. We fall in love with our children and that most powerful love is with them wherever they are, even if they are in Gods arms. I am just so incredibly sad for everyone who has loved and lost in this tragedy.
-------------
I'd give anything to find the magical "rewind" button and go back in time for you. I'd even settle for "fast forward" to take you to a time when the fierce pain might feel like just a dull ache; a time when the memories may bring a smile as opposed to such sadness. Unfortunately I feel like you must feel as though your lives are on "pause" - stranded in this seemingly unending nightmare. I say what has been said: they are in a better place, God works in mysterious ways, they are always with you in your heart, and so on. But I also know these sentiments must be of little comfort to you now, I'd be thinking the better place for them is with me, what could God possibly have planned that involved this, I know they are in my heart, but I want them in my arms. These are words we say when there are no words to say, words we know are not truly comforting, but that we hope show our sadness for those suffering. Words we hope ring true...someday. They are just words, but when all that we can do is offer you words, we hope that above all they convey pure love and compassion and support. We are strangers and friends offering words to let you know there is an army of people who will carry you until you can crawl on your own, crawl beside you until you can stand. Once standing, hold your hand forever.
The prayers are different though. "I'm praying for you" may not mean much at a time like this, but this declaration is less for comfort and more for hope. These words we hope will reach God's ears and He will open a window for you, He will send help and speed you to a time when you are comforted. I pray He will show you a way. I am a stranger. We likely will never meet. I am one of the many strangers helping to "carry" you through prayer - simply because it's all I can do...would that I could do more. When you are "crawling" I will be one of the many strangers cheering you on. I know you have a long dark road ahead that you must travel before you see the light again, but there will be light again. I truly believe that.
------------
As one of the many "strangers" who so fervently aches for these families and their friends, someone who has thought unceasingly of them, I am grateful to have stumbled upon this page. I don't know if Matthew or Madonna will ever read the sentiments on here but I hope even acquaintances and friends who are hurting find some comfort in the worry and concern of strangers, in the knowledge that so many feel so deeply for the Badger's and Johnson's. I hope the love on here is somehow carried back to them. To read the posts of so many unconnected people from across the globe echoing pain and anguish, offering hope and prayer - if nothing else, it's a reminder of the human capacity to love and feel for others in need. It's a reminder that despite all the bad, there is still good in this world.
---------
I guess now the true struggle begins. The shock and disbelief wear away and the agony takes root. I have posted a few times but was bothered by one thing. A few people have referenced the blogs and the asinine people posting their judgmental and heartless comments on them (I have purposely not read these; they are too debased to mingle with the love that's called to mind when I think of your beautiful girls and selfless parents). While a page like this one is a shining example of the good social media can do, there are many other instances where we see technology give the ignorant and apathetic a voice when they are better left mute. Let no words of hurt in. I hope those surrounding you are able to protect you from the misguided souls who seek to wound you with their comments. There is no regret. No "should have, could have or would have's." There is a path for our lives laid out long before we actually walk it. And while we make the decisions that lead us one way or another, they eventually bring us where destiny had already arranged for us to be. There is not a person alive who has the right to judge you or anyone else. We all have done things we wish we had done differently. It is very easy and cowardly to scoff and pass judgement on another's life and choices; it's a whole different matter to walk a mile in their shoes. I guarantee not many would have the strength to walk in yours. We all have to find a way to bring meaning and light to the hand fate deals us. You have - through unimaginable grief - begun to do that in the beautiful words you spoke that allowed the world to know who Lily, Sarah and Grace were, in the other 364 foundation that has been set up in their names to champion compassion every day of the year, and in your request to keep your "girl tribe" alive by spreading the love they left behind through acts of service and kindness. Shame on anyone who tries to bring you down as you work to rise above this. I will love and serve always with your whole family in my heart.
----------
I ache for you and those who love you. Its unfathomable and unfair. I also am one of the many strangers who have not stopped thinking of you all week. I just sit here and cry as a mother, as a daughter, as a person. I pray you find comfort and peace someday. You have suffered. And you will suffer more. But one day hopefully many years from now, your suffering will end. On that day you will be rewarded for all of your pain. I'm not crazy religious, I just have to believe that. I have to believe God needed 5 amazing angels in heaven and 3 very special little ambassadors were chosen to be accompanied by two wonderful, loving grandparents. By all accounts you are an incredibly strong woman. Maybe God knew you could ultimately handle this tragedy whereas most could not. Maybe He knew you could go on until the day you are rewarded so immeasurably in heaven. The day your pain began they entered what I have to believe is a place beautiful beyond comprehension and together they will wait for you. Heaven's gain is always our loss. I have seen the pictures of your family and am grateful that now I know what 5 angels look like. They were too good and pure and perfect for the pain of this earth and will forever be good and pure and perfect now. From a heart-broken mother and daughter in Western New York.
-----------
Jennifer Bierl MorganSupport Madonna Badger & Family
I posted my thoughts for Madonna last night - it's easy as a mother to get lost in my sadness for another mother. But I neglected to express my grief for Matthew as well. I don't know you and I did not know your beautiful little girls. But what I do know is that they brightened the life of everyone who knew them (it's just what children do) that they were loved and they loved back and because of that alone they made this world a better place. I am grateful for loving parents who raise wonderful children and share them with our world if only for a short time :*(
Hang onto your love; I believe it's the one thing that not even death can take from you. We fall in love with our children and that most powerful love is with them wherever they are, even if they are in Gods arms. I am just so incredibly sad for everyone who has loved and lost in this tragedy.
-------------
I'd give anything to find the magical "rewind" button and go back in time for you. I'd even settle for "fast forward" to take you to a time when the fierce pain might feel like just a dull ache; a time when the memories may bring a smile as opposed to such sadness. Unfortunately I feel like you must feel as though your lives are on "pause" - stranded in this seemingly unending nightmare. I say what has been said: they are in a better place, God works in mysterious ways, they are always with you in your heart, and so on. But I also know these sentiments must be of little comfort to you now, I'd be thinking the better place for them is with me, what could God possibly have planned that involved this, I know they are in my heart, but I want them in my arms. These are words we say when there are no words to say, words we know are not truly comforting, but that we hope show our sadness for those suffering. Words we hope ring true...someday. They are just words, but when all that we can do is offer you words, we hope that above all they convey pure love and compassion and support. We are strangers and friends offering words to let you know there is an army of people who will carry you until you can crawl on your own, crawl beside you until you can stand. Once standing, hold your hand forever.
The prayers are different though. "I'm praying for you" may not mean much at a time like this, but this declaration is less for comfort and more for hope. These words we hope will reach God's ears and He will open a window for you, He will send help and speed you to a time when you are comforted. I pray He will show you a way. I am a stranger. We likely will never meet. I am one of the many strangers helping to "carry" you through prayer - simply because it's all I can do...would that I could do more. When you are "crawling" I will be one of the many strangers cheering you on. I know you have a long dark road ahead that you must travel before you see the light again, but there will be light again. I truly believe that.
------------
As one of the many "strangers" who so fervently aches for these families and their friends, someone who has thought unceasingly of them, I am grateful to have stumbled upon this page. I don't know if Matthew or Madonna will ever read the sentiments on here but I hope even acquaintances and friends who are hurting find some comfort in the worry and concern of strangers, in the knowledge that so many feel so deeply for the Badger's and Johnson's. I hope the love on here is somehow carried back to them. To read the posts of so many unconnected people from across the globe echoing pain and anguish, offering hope and prayer - if nothing else, it's a reminder of the human capacity to love and feel for others in need. It's a reminder that despite all the bad, there is still good in this world.
---------
I guess now the true struggle begins. The shock and disbelief wear away and the agony takes root. I have posted a few times but was bothered by one thing. A few people have referenced the blogs and the asinine people posting their judgmental and heartless comments on them (I have purposely not read these; they are too debased to mingle with the love that's called to mind when I think of your beautiful girls and selfless parents). While a page like this one is a shining example of the good social media can do, there are many other instances where we see technology give the ignorant and apathetic a voice when they are better left mute. Let no words of hurt in. I hope those surrounding you are able to protect you from the misguided souls who seek to wound you with their comments. There is no regret. No "should have, could have or would have's." There is a path for our lives laid out long before we actually walk it. And while we make the decisions that lead us one way or another, they eventually bring us where destiny had already arranged for us to be. There is not a person alive who has the right to judge you or anyone else. We all have done things we wish we had done differently. It is very easy and cowardly to scoff and pass judgement on another's life and choices; it's a whole different matter to walk a mile in their shoes. I guarantee not many would have the strength to walk in yours. We all have to find a way to bring meaning and light to the hand fate deals us. You have - through unimaginable grief - begun to do that in the beautiful words you spoke that allowed the world to know who Lily, Sarah and Grace were, in the other 364 foundation that has been set up in their names to champion compassion every day of the year, and in your request to keep your "girl tribe" alive by spreading the love they left behind through acts of service and kindness. Shame on anyone who tries to bring you down as you work to rise above this. I will love and serve always with your whole family in my heart.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Supporting Matt and Madonna Badger
I check the "Support Madonna Badger" facebook page everyday; sometimes several times a day. I read the posts and it's as if my heart breaks all over again. I go about my life, but on some level I am always thinking of Madonna. When I have a moment or two to myself I try to imagine what her day is like. I try to imagine standing in her shoes, but I never last that long. It hurts so much.
(This was going to be my latest post, but felt it was too long)
What strikes me as most painful - though i don't presume to know - is the silence. Not the quiet - parents all know moments of quiet when the kids are playing or sleeping or watching a movie. It's the silence that I think must be devastating. I lay down at night and though its quiet, I can hear - i can feel - my children sleeping. It's when they aren't there that I get a glimpse of the silence. I now have little panic attacks if my kids are sleeping away at someone's house or out with my husband. The silence. The absence of a heartbeat other than mine on those nights makes me think of you and it tears me apart.
Our kids are a part of us; to lose one let alone all of them must make you feel as though half of yourself is missing. And to lose your parents too. You must have surreal moments where you wonder if you yourself have disappeared after losing the people who mattered most to you, who defined you. But you have not disappeared. For so many strangers and loved ones you are the real, living embodiment of uncommon strength and the walking definition of love. You are real and ached for. We may not see you physically, but we see you when we close our eyes, we see your pain and would carry it, we would carry you down this dark path - if only for a few steps - if we could. I know when you heal you will do magnificent things to keep Lily, Sarah, Grace, Lomer and Pauline all alive. I turn my eyes to the future for comfort because I believe if anyone can bring anything good from this, you and Matthew will. I say your name over and over again throughout the day. I don't know why, I just do, "Madonna Badger." I say all of your names: Madonna, Matthew, Lily, Sarah, Grace, Lomer and Pauline. My mind just repeats them. I believe ultimately the Badger/Johnson name will be associated with positive change and your story, your life, will be the impetus for wondrous acts of love and kindness. You, your family, your words, your children and parents have all changed the world and will continue to do so.
I look at the pictures that have been circulated of three smiling, beautiful, happy girls and grandparents. It's hard to reconcile those pictures with the heart wrenching photos of that night and after. My 2 year old wanted me to read a book the other night and chose a book about Christmas eve. It brought tears to my eyes. I wonder if I - a complete stranger - will ever feel again the pure joy I always associated with Christmas; the excitement linked with Christmas eve. I can't help but think of your family now and know it was the worst night imaginable for all of you. When I think of that night...those terrible hours, I just cry for you all.
I doubt Madonna and Matt are reading this, but I know I draw solace from reading the posts of other concerned people so I continue to post how I feel in the hope that as strangers our words comfort each other. For Madonna and Matt I hope our collective positive energy, support and prayers from around the world creates a sphere of love that envelops them - I hope they know this page exists and if nothing else I hope it let's them know that in the hearts of all these strangers they are remembered, their girls are remembered and Lomer and Pauline are remembered too.
(This was going to be my latest post, but felt it was too long)
What strikes me as most painful - though i don't presume to know - is the silence. Not the quiet - parents all know moments of quiet when the kids are playing or sleeping or watching a movie. It's the silence that I think must be devastating. I lay down at night and though its quiet, I can hear - i can feel - my children sleeping. It's when they aren't there that I get a glimpse of the silence. I now have little panic attacks if my kids are sleeping away at someone's house or out with my husband. The silence. The absence of a heartbeat other than mine on those nights makes me think of you and it tears me apart.
Our kids are a part of us; to lose one let alone all of them must make you feel as though half of yourself is missing. And to lose your parents too. You must have surreal moments where you wonder if you yourself have disappeared after losing the people who mattered most to you, who defined you. But you have not disappeared. For so many strangers and loved ones you are the real, living embodiment of uncommon strength and the walking definition of love. You are real and ached for. We may not see you physically, but we see you when we close our eyes, we see your pain and would carry it, we would carry you down this dark path - if only for a few steps - if we could. I know when you heal you will do magnificent things to keep Lily, Sarah, Grace, Lomer and Pauline all alive. I turn my eyes to the future for comfort because I believe if anyone can bring anything good from this, you and Matthew will. I say your name over and over again throughout the day. I don't know why, I just do, "Madonna Badger." I say all of your names: Madonna, Matthew, Lily, Sarah, Grace, Lomer and Pauline. My mind just repeats them. I believe ultimately the Badger/Johnson name will be associated with positive change and your story, your life, will be the impetus for wondrous acts of love and kindness. You, your family, your words, your children and parents have all changed the world and will continue to do so.
I look at the pictures that have been circulated of three smiling, beautiful, happy girls and grandparents. It's hard to reconcile those pictures with the heart wrenching photos of that night and after. My 2 year old wanted me to read a book the other night and chose a book about Christmas eve. It brought tears to my eyes. I wonder if I - a complete stranger - will ever feel again the pure joy I always associated with Christmas; the excitement linked with Christmas eve. I can't help but think of your family now and know it was the worst night imaginable for all of you. When I think of that night...those terrible hours, I just cry for you all.
I doubt Madonna and Matt are reading this, but I know I draw solace from reading the posts of other concerned people so I continue to post how I feel in the hope that as strangers our words comfort each other. For Madonna and Matt I hope our collective positive energy, support and prayers from around the world creates a sphere of love that envelops them - I hope they know this page exists and if nothing else I hope it let's them know that in the hearts of all these strangers they are remembered, their girls are remembered and Lomer and Pauline are remembered too.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)