A Gaping Wound in Islamabad
The panic one feels when something like this happens is unbridled. Our first thoughts are for the safety of those we love most. Cellphones are whipped out, locations are verified. They’re safe. The panic subsides somewhat.
But for many, many of us, the panic never did subside last night. For many, life changed forever the moment that truck exploded. And although this is a waking nightmare for us all, we can’t even begin to imagine the horrific magnitude of this nightmare for those who lost their loved ones last night. They are from among us, people just like you and me, and could easily have been you or me. In grieving for them, we grieve for ourselves, because it is the same.
That all this death and destruction happened in one of the liveliest and most radiant locations in the city, a place we associated with special family dinners and weddings and exhibitions and festivity and warmth, makes it even more unpalatable in our minds. The sheer scale of this tragedy is still sinking in. And so is the extent of our vulnerability.