A time in Grey skies

I’ve been reading this book about a woman investigating a murder, which turns out to be an elaborate ploy to fake a death during wartime. Increasingly, she takes on responsibilities related to this war, but all the while not really approving of it. Because while all sides believe they are on the side of good- it is the ordinary people who are the ants. It’s made me feel melancholy. And to think that if God was really as vengeful as he seemed to me in grade school, then I would think the people on the front-lines of disasters would be the ones let into heaven. But of course, I don’t believe in that kind of god. The one who made terrified that my father, the atheist, would go to hell. All because he didn’t believe - leaving no judgement on the kind of person who was, how he treated others or that he was the salt of the earth.

Although I have seen countries and people impoverished - I didn’t make it my life work to be at their sides. Even though I want to be in solidarity, the culture I live in is too far away to even remotely know that kind of empathy. I couldn’t reconcile a life with a family of my own in a place so far away from where I grew up. Even though I am not so close to home. Plus, I had a cascade of issues hit me at the same time. Probably having to do somewhat with my personal environment but I felt also didn’t make me mentally fit to be providing aid long-term to anyone.

I sometimes wonder if others or myself unfairly made hasty judgment on my capabilities or that it was my destiny to be where I am now. I am certainly lucky to have a voice and to be able to use it. Many live and die never being heard, only possibly living in the memories and the hearts of those who loved. For some of those people, I can tell you who they were or let you know who they are.