But in the midst of the horror, it was the photograph of a little girlmore
with gold earrings that especially moved me. She was lying on the floor
of her house, alongside her brothers, sisters and mother, all of them
covered with bloodstained shrouds.
Perhaps that little girl entered my heart because when she died, my
husband and I were looking after our two little granddaughters while
their parents were traveling. It was my special role to wipe away their
every tear, to kiss every bump and cut, and to hold their precious
bodies close as I read them a story and prepared them for bed each
When I saw that little girl's picture, I felt that if I had picked her
up she would have felt warm and soft like my granddaughters. But she
was dead and I could not bear the cruelty of it.
Monday, August 07, 2006
I could not bear the cruelty of it.
this from kathleen:
Posted by lukery at 8/07/2006 07:31:00 PM