Since Tuesday I have written, erased and re-written this blog entry a thousand times over in my mind. It never made it to "paper" because honestly, I couldn't find the words. I still can't.
For those who have no idea of my origins, I am Christchurch born and bred. I breathed black and red every moment of my existance until I was 23. 16 years on, my stomping ground has obviously changed, but the black and red remains in my blood.
Never will I forget staring at the TV on Tuesday with a complete sickness in my stomach, tears burning at my eyes and a fearful shiver working its way through my body. Efforts to reach family members were fruitless for hours on end. Finally there came some good news - a massive relief. And throughout the next 12 -24 hours it kept on coming.
I'm one of the lucky ones. I don't know any of the 98 who've officially lost their lives and I'm not waiting on news of someone who is missing. Yet my soul grieves. It grieves for family and friends left behind who somehow have to deal with the pain of such a devastating disaster. It grieves for for those waiting, never giving up hope that the mother / father / brother / sister / aunty / bestfriend / work colleauge they haven't seen or heard from in nearly 3 days might still be alive - somewhere, somehow. And selfishly it grieves because Christchurch is my hometown. Yes I have memories of a beautiful place that will remain with me for the rest of my life, but the city as I once knew it is crumpled and crushed forever.
x Meagan x