sad
bibliovixen to Bloggers Without Borders. One of the
entries there is about the experiences of a volunteer helping out in a morgue after the tsunami.
The entry and the quote below are very graphic. It made me cry but I am glad I read it.
"We were dripping with sweat, stinking of death, physically exhausted, and emotionally shell-shocked. I sat with an East German volunteer, and we lamented about the tragedy. As we swapped our stories, I came to the revelation that one of the worst aspects of making any sort of an identification was that these husks, these beat-up pieces of rotten meat had names. And a name meant a family, a job, loves, hates, hobbies, lives. I described a necklace that one corpse had been wearing. After a little water and scrubbing, the examiner discovered that the scratches on the back face spelled a word: Agatha. This girl was Agatha. Such a lovely name for such an ugly thing as a corpse. My German friend told me that his team had found a body wearing a bracelet, the back of which said 'Gary and Christine. September 17, 1993.' At that point, the floodgates holding back every pent up emotion and frustration that had been building up the past few days and past few hours were smashed open, and I broke down sobbing."