Torn apart

That's a term I heard on this morning's news. Describing how the town of Humboldt, Saskatchewsn is reeling with grief  -- a feeling that is rippling across the country after a horrific bus crash. At this point, the count of the dead is 14. More than enough for two lines of players, plenty for a rousing match of shinny.

The term 'torn apart' may be resonating so deeply for me for two reasons. Primarily, because I know the town of Humboldt. I've spent time there, walked its streets, enjoyed the light of autumny days there. I understand the feeling of community and connectedness that resides in the people there.

The other reason is that I stayed up past midnight, needing to finish a book wouldn't let me go -- Timothy Taylor's The Rule of Stephens. One of its central ideas is that of being torn apart, whether physically, psychologically or emotionally.

So this morning when the news greeted me with this term, it connected on a deeper level than it might have yesterday, as that term -- with all of its levels of meaning -- keeps echoing.

There's a candle burning in the kitchen, but I am feeling helpless in this sadness.

As a sad update, yet another person has died -- this time the only woman on the bus, the team's athletic trainer, Dayna Brons. The total now has gone to 16.

Aftermath

Last week's predictions of storms -- heavy rain and strong winds -- didn't turn out to be quite accurate. There was plenty of rain and wind, but it was nowhere near as widespread as had been forecast, nor were the winds as strong as we'd been told.

No doubt the family and friends of Shakir Salaam feel otherwise. He's the boy who was killed by a falling tree in a park near his school.

Everyone says he was a wonderful person. And to be the only one struck down by this storm can only make me shake my head and wonder. Where is the fairness when such things occur -- and to someone as young as he was?

When I came home today, I spotted the beautiful rose outside at one of my neighbour's. Its perfect beauty, still holding all those raindrops from the storm, seemed to demand a photograph.

The many contradictions in the world -- so much harshness and beauty -- beyond understanding, for sure, but nonetheless worth contemplating.

Under the rainbow

I know I'm not the only one still reeling at all that's happened in Orlando this past week. People with guns gone so very wrong and even an alligator. It's hard to think about so much sadness in just one place, especially a place that's known for its beauty, a place where people go to be happy.

The executions at the Pulse Club -- a hate crime by anyone's definition. It's hard to imagine how anyone could develop such loathing for others based simply on who they are. As for publicity about the shooter, I don't want to learn more. And I will certainly never say his name.

The funerals in that sad city have begun. The healing is sure to take a long while. I can only look with hope to a time when a person's sexual orientation will have no more consequence than whether they have blue or brown eyes. A time when we can again soar over the rainbow, and not be bogged down underneath all that it stands for. Besides, I'm pretty sure if you're underneath where someone else sees a rainbow, you won't see anything but clouds.