the thing that’s buried

It’s awful and surreal, really, to hear on the radio something having to do with my life, my family.

It’s happened more than a few times in the 6 years since my aunt and uncle were murdered on E*ypt Air Flight 990. I’ll be flipping the dial around, absentmindedly, and something will catch my ear and the host will be talking about IT.

Well, it happened again today.

And I’m always angry and irrational when I hear it. And I’m always sure, for a split second, that the host is not talking about it. Then my hearing focuses and the breath goes out of me and I want to pick up the phone and call that host and tell him to “shut up, SHUT UP!”

It doesn’t matter what is being said, really; my reaction is the same, every time.

Just don’t talk about it. Don’t talk about it in that blithe, passing sort of way. You don’t know. YOU DON’T KNOW. YOU HAVEN’T EARNED THE RIGHT TO TALK ABOUT IT IN THAT BLITHE, PASSING SORT OF WAY!

Because, I’d tell him, my family doesn’t even talk about it.

No. It is the thing that is not discussed. It is the thing that is buried and frozen and silent and ruinous. My dad cannot speak of his sister, not anymore. Still, there is that lingering shadow of terror. Still.

So when I hear random radio voices casually analyze the thing that makes my family horrified and mute, I admit, I become a little unhinged. Still.

I’m sorry this is a rambling mess. I just really do get unhinged.

5 Replies to “the thing that’s buried”

  1. Tracey – as you know, I’m relatively new to your blog. I had no idea.

    I read the mass letter you sent out, and found myself getting so so angry – and nodding my head in total agreement with your words.

    I remember the political brou-haha of those days – and I remember reading the massive piece of investigative journalism that The Atlantic did on this act of terrorism and Egypt’s non-response, and all that. It was infuriating then and it’s still infuriating.

    I can’t even imagine what you and your family has gone through. It’s horrific and I am so so sorry for your loss.

  2. {{{Tracey}}}

    Something like that changes a family forever. Some change happens because you’re walking down the road and you come to a fork and decide to turn left intead of veering right, but then there is the change that happens because you’re walking down the road and a semi drives by going 65 mph and knocks you clear into the next county. Your family is still bruised and broken. Of course it hurts when someone pokes you. I’m so sorry.

  3. Wow. I had no idea. I’m truly sorry for your loss Tracey. We live in an evil, evil world, and we must do whatever it takes to protect ourselves from that evil. Thankfully, we have a President that is willing to do so.

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