These Questionable Burdens
At times I have wondered if events would be altered had something different been placed into the equation. What if another person, or two, had been included in the travel party? What if they had delayed their journey by even a day, or started earlier than expected? What if some of the warriors had left the Golden Wood and met them in the mountain passes?
And yet, thinking of what-ifs does no one any good. The past cannot be changed so easily, and certainly not by us. Of course, the logicality of such does not lessen the guilt that shadows one’s soul, the burden of those what-ifs and if-only thoughts that had we done something different the outcome in turn would have changed.
The general shock of the matter also does nothing to lessen the shame that does lie upon our shoulders. The knowledge of what is to come, of what was and what is only serves to deepen the pain of culpability that we did nothing to stop what happened.
Some retreated into themselves, preferring to deal with their guilt and pain, the sorrow of loss by their lonesome with no help from friends and loved ones. Others chose revenge, though revenge is naught but another way of laying the yoke of accountability upon another, in this case the blame is transferred to the enemy.
We all feel the guilt of what happened, and we do not forget easily like those of the second-born children, whose minds and memories are fragile. Our own memories are long and clear, and the shame remains always, a shadow even in times of joy. The loss of a loved one in any way will cause this, but the loss of one due to such tragedy makes that shame so much worse.
She left us due to a weariness of the soul, her own shadows becoming more than she could bear. She sought peace in the far West, a place where we will join her in eventuality. And yet, did she feel guilt upon leaving? I wish now that I could ask of her these questions. Did you feel guilty leaving behind your children, your husband, and your friends? Did you feel guilty leaving your home, the valley you helped to shape and nurture? Not only did you feel guilt, but do you still? Or has peace been handed to you, and an understanding that is yet beyond our reach?
And if she has found understanding and reconciliation with the past, shall we all find this upon our own arrival to the Blessed Shores of the West? Will the guilt we all feel to some degree fall from our shoulders like a heavy shroud? I want to know, and yet at the same time I do not. Will my remorse that I did nothing to prevent the loss of my only child, my golden daughter, be shed from my very soul? Or will I simply come to understand it better, to face up to it? And then, will the shame of being unable to help her family, my own grandchildren, through the trials of losing their mother also leave me?
All I can think of to say is that only time can tell us, for it is a matter of the heart and not something a mirror or other tool can predict. Only in time will we have these answers we seek so demandingly.
And yet, thinking of what-ifs does no one any good. The past cannot be changed so easily, and certainly not by us. Of course, the logicality of such does not lessen the guilt that shadows one’s soul, the burden of those what-ifs and if-only thoughts that had we done something different the outcome in turn would have changed.
The general shock of the matter also does nothing to lessen the shame that does lie upon our shoulders. The knowledge of what is to come, of what was and what is only serves to deepen the pain of culpability that we did nothing to stop what happened.
Some retreated into themselves, preferring to deal with their guilt and pain, the sorrow of loss by their lonesome with no help from friends and loved ones. Others chose revenge, though revenge is naught but another way of laying the yoke of accountability upon another, in this case the blame is transferred to the enemy.
We all feel the guilt of what happened, and we do not forget easily like those of the second-born children, whose minds and memories are fragile. Our own memories are long and clear, and the shame remains always, a shadow even in times of joy. The loss of a loved one in any way will cause this, but the loss of one due to such tragedy makes that shame so much worse.
She left us due to a weariness of the soul, her own shadows becoming more than she could bear. She sought peace in the far West, a place where we will join her in eventuality. And yet, did she feel guilt upon leaving? I wish now that I could ask of her these questions. Did you feel guilty leaving behind your children, your husband, and your friends? Did you feel guilty leaving your home, the valley you helped to shape and nurture? Not only did you feel guilt, but do you still? Or has peace been handed to you, and an understanding that is yet beyond our reach?
And if she has found understanding and reconciliation with the past, shall we all find this upon our own arrival to the Blessed Shores of the West? Will the guilt we all feel to some degree fall from our shoulders like a heavy shroud? I want to know, and yet at the same time I do not. Will my remorse that I did nothing to prevent the loss of my only child, my golden daughter, be shed from my very soul? Or will I simply come to understand it better, to face up to it? And then, will the shame of being unable to help her family, my own grandchildren, through the trials of losing their mother also leave me?
All I can think of to say is that only time can tell us, for it is a matter of the heart and not something a mirror or other tool can predict. Only in time will we have these answers we seek so demandingly.