solemnest of industries
Sep. 29th, 2009 05:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
unknownfateSaddest day at work ever.
Two four year olds drowned in the lagoon yesterday. They were cousins and in the same class. They were sledding about a block or two from where they lived. They went down the hill and onto the ice and fell through. Someone saw the sled and the hole in the ice and got their binoculars. They saw something floating and called 911.
One girl was unresponsive, but the other had some life signs, but neither could be revived. The whole preschool staff went to the house today to offer condolences. If anything is more sad than a family sobbing the names of their dead children while clutching their last little preschool assignments, I don’t want to know about it. I have hugged many people that I don’t know today, but I do know that grief is one of those things you can’t do anything about but be there.
The subject is a line from an Emily Dickinson poem. It's a sure indication I'm upset when I start looking up Dickinson. There was a sign up that said 'Thin Ice', but they were four years old! Still learning the alphabet. The first thing you want to do is scream "Who was watching them?" but it's such a small town that everybody pretty much watches everybody, and these two managed to find a moment when no one was around, or going by, and slide just a little too far.
So it's about as sad as it can be, with the bodies coming back tonight, and another family gathering tomorrow. I'm just glad to be home!
Two four year olds drowned in the lagoon yesterday. They were cousins and in the same class. They were sledding about a block or two from where they lived. They went down the hill and onto the ice and fell through. Someone saw the sled and the hole in the ice and got their binoculars. They saw something floating and called 911.
One girl was unresponsive, but the other had some life signs, but neither could be revived. The whole preschool staff went to the house today to offer condolences. If anything is more sad than a family sobbing the names of their dead children while clutching their last little preschool assignments, I don’t want to know about it. I have hugged many people that I don’t know today, but I do know that grief is one of those things you can’t do anything about but be there.
The subject is a line from an Emily Dickinson poem. It's a sure indication I'm upset when I start looking up Dickinson. There was a sign up that said 'Thin Ice', but they were four years old! Still learning the alphabet. The first thing you want to do is scream "Who was watching them?" but it's such a small town that everybody pretty much watches everybody, and these two managed to find a moment when no one was around, or going by, and slide just a little too far.
So it's about as sad as it can be, with the bodies coming back tonight, and another family gathering tomorrow. I'm just glad to be home!
