Scrolling through Facebook, a former colleague on a trip to New York posted checkins along the typical tourist route in Manhattan. I smiled as she checked into a few familiar places, tracing my own familiarity up and down the length of the city.
Then I saw an address I recognized.
I didn’t know at first. I’ve never been there. But I know what happened there.
The feeling in my stomach tightens, as I remember who was lost.
All the mothers who have lost their living children.
The velt doesn’t have this right. They never have. And I struggle more and more with what exactly can be done to fix it.
Because I don’t think there is anything that can be done.
Into the dark abyss my mind goes.