Today's Grief, the 8th

Ireland voted to repeal their 8th amendment which had protected unborn children and their mothers from abortion. I've been quietly mourning since the results came in last night and were unfortunately confirmed today. The devastation on the faces and in the words of those who fought hard against this outcome was hard to see. All of this would be easier to bear if not for the awful reality: a landslide "yes" vote. People rejoicing. News sources congratulating Irish women.

Hecklers are to be expected. I am certain there were foolish men and women on both sides who dirtied the stereotype of their own team. It's not about winning at this point. Or losing. The weeping is in the realization that we are evil. We are surrounded by it like a thick, dark sludge.

Cheering. People are cheering for the chance to kill someone. And not just someone, an innocent child. And not just a child but a small one -- the smallest, innocentest people there are. People are cheering and calling the 8th amendment cruel. It's hard to hear; it's hard to witness such evil. Widespread. Dark. So very devastating. The evil one is real. Evil is real. Human depravity is real. Here it is, plain.

How could calling a child human be named cruel? How could cruelty be mistaken for compassion? How could what is clearly ugly, revolting be called beauty? It is madness. It is evil.

There is absolutely hope, regardless of law.

And what is worse is the silence. While me and no-one-I-know-personally mourn, things go on normally, as they always do in mourning. It's what makes the sadness so hard to bear; ultimately, you bear it alone. Others move on or care less than you or not at all. In a month after the funeral, the cards stop coming, and all the flowers are long-dead. Everyone goes back to bickering over little insignificant things; really, they never stopped. Your aunts and uncles divide up the estate, the news drones on about something stupid somebody said, and everywhere you go the sky is falling. They never stopped.

The sadness is about the future. It's because we know what it's like in an abortion-permissive land. It's because of hope. And hope has not left us, though it feels as though there is none. Even for Ireland, there is the Lovely One who can change their outcome; it's not written in stone that they turn out as we have. Even if they do, it is not written in stone that we will remain as we are with thousands of children dying daily. One day abortion will end. There is absolutely hope, regardless of law.

I've been quietly mourning since the results came in last night and were unfortunately confirmed today. The devastation on the faces and in the words of those who fought hard against this outcome was hard to see.

It bears reminding that grief is irrational. It is feeling, and feelings are not required to make complete sense. Of course life goes on when bad, even devastating, things happen. In the worst of wars and human rights violations and poverty there are still many who are living their lives normally. Usually, even those who are suffering must continue on with the ins-and-outs of life while suffering. This cursed life is so filled with tragedy that if we stopped living every time we were hurt, we would not live at all. Worse, if everyone and everything stopped every time one of us was hurt, no one would do anything, ever. That's the reality of our lives here. Still, there is something about grieving together with others. There's something about pain that is shared.


They were cheering. Glad. Calling evil good and pain pleasure, and it was devastating. And it was terrifying. And it was gross. I don't think I'll ever forget it.