Whenever an airplane goes missing, I assume the worst and think of what the passengers' last moments must have been like. I picture the plane tumbling down to earth as the passengers, realizing they're going to die, are filled with terror. It's not the dying that bothers me as much as knowing how frightened the passengers were in their final moments.
On the news this morning, we heard that debris and bodies have now been recovered from the ocean so there will be no false hope that this plane was hijacked and the passengers might still be alive. At least the families will be able to begin to grieve knowing for certain that their loved ones are really gone and out of pain and fear. When the plane went missing last year and no evidence was ever recovered, it left the families in a grey area, not able to begin to grieve when they still had a shred of hope.
Grieving for your loss is painful but there is a light somewhere down the road when acceptance is stronger than the grief. It's so hard to let a loved one go but I, for one, believe they've just gone somewhere else and live on in a different life. I hate that there were so many children on this flight,children who'd had little chance to live their lives here on earth. I wonder about purpose or reason for such a tragedy to happen. And that draws down to the big question..why are we here to begin with?
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