Every week is a full week but this one seemed more … just more than recent weeks. There was an attack on a hospital in Kabul. Yes, a HOSPITAL. I wondered, is anywhere sacred anymore? Is anywhere off limits?
The day after the attack my family received news that my cousin was visiting a family member at the hospital and he was killed. A young man, 30 years old. He was, in a sense, a newlywed. Just shy of being married five years. He leaves behind two children, a wife and a devastated family. Another cousin, in an attempt to escape the carnage, jumped out the window and broke his back in the fall. My aunt covered herself in the blood of the person next to her and lay on the floor pretending to be dead in a sprint for survival.
I actually didn’t want to write about this. But I couldn’t escape it. It lay heavy on my mind all week. And all week I walked around with a smile. With a laugh. Still offering my help everywhere I could. Still living. Not wanting to put that grief on anyone else. Trying to be a ray of light in someone’s day, since there are so many clouds in this world. You know, love is so important. It’s not cliche. It should never be cliche. Love is sacred. It should always be sacred.
I believe; when you love, make it known. I guess this week was yet another reminder of that. Life is fleeting and precious and we need to make our time here count. Do things that count. For causes that count. I want those that matter to me to always know they do. Whether through a text, a phone call, a hug, over a cup of tea, a day out or a number of other ways. No act is too small or too big.
When you love, make it known.