Survival is a funny thing. You can register that you are alive; you can comprehend that the people around you are alive; you can even understand - to a point - that people in their multitudes have died, but because you and those around you are plodding along (or racing as the case may be) step by step in a direction that is relatively normal, the peoples deaths seem remote.
Foggy - through a haze as though what you lived through was something different and separate and not quite so bad as what claimed them.
And then upon reflection, in the quiet moments when you are by yourself, you realise that its not, that its all the same.
Many through out time have said that living is harder than dying. And it is true I'd imagine. But that makes it somewhat more worthwhile.
I lived; I survived along side many, many thousands of others. It would be somehow dishonouring those strangers that were not so fortunate to not make the most of that gift.
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