I haven’t talked to my family in three days. I haven’t seen them in three days. I know where they are. They know where I am. I can contact them easily enough. My communication options are many and easily accesible. Except from the house I am ‘living’ in. There is no phone. No internet access. From right here there is no technical way to contact them.
And it bothers me.
How did families watch their children, their brothers or sisters, their parents, any one they cared about get on a boat and sail away to places unknown.
Many times never to be heard from again.
I know I can contact my family. I know where to go to be able to do this. I know I can. Yet it still bothers me that I can’t.
How many mothers sat by their fires wondering about their children. How many fathers worried about their sons finding work in a world they knew very little, if anything, about.
How many people stepped foot on to a new land knowing they didn’t have the ability to go to mom and dad for comfort, or advice, or a friendly and loving welcome. Where every face was a stranger. And often times that stranger was not open to making friends.
My heart is filled with sadness for the parents who just a matter of decades ago, and for centuries back, who watched their children walk, sail, be carried away. To never hear from them again. What a terrible feeling. I know my imagination of it could never compare to the reality of it for them. What I imagine seems pretty unfathomable.
My inconvenience was a lifetime of ache for them.
If three days feels like this….