My first morning in India to cover the 2004 Tsunami, a few hours after arrival, I walked the beach where the waves came aground. Funeral pyres were already lit with small groups of people, eyes to the sea, making ceremonial offerings for the loved ones they've lost. I walked past this man and paused a few feet away to wait for Abraham, my interpreter, to catch up with me. Abraham stopped to speak with a few elders when he was looking at me, signaling for me to wait. "That man" he said.. "He lost his wife, his home, his family.. everything to the sea..but right now he tells me that..he sleeps on the beach with his son." It took me a moment to comprehend that this bereft man had just buried his son in the sand, and sprawled there, sleeping with him not wanting to leave his side.
We didn't know what to do - so we stood there just listening to the waves come to shore, silent, choking back tears for such a graphic moment of loss. Fourteen years later, I remember and feel this moment like it was just this morning. Still silent.
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