In George’s Point of View

Sometimes all we do is listen. We listen to the families speak of their loved ones, listen to the little ones cry, the child who loves snowflakes because that is what her father called her. The wife and children with no means of support and feeding themselves with empty spoons. Knowing that no matter what we do, we cannot bring them back, nor fill that empty place. Still we do what we can on behalf of the families.

This will be the first July 28 in history when these 152 people will not be living on this earth. We want to remember these people who lost their lives in such a tragic and unnecessary way. They deserve to be remembered.

Some remember those who are no longer with us by using symbols. Memorials like the one promised. There are other symbols, like the bird in flight that symbolizes a soul, or a chain with a broken link.

There is a tradition dating back to ancient times of placing rosemary by the graves of loved ones. “There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance; pray, love, remember;” Hamlet, (V.iv.124)

I was going to talk about more ways that people remember, but I must pause here. In ancient times they put rosemary by the graves of loved ones. Some people still do. But we cannot lay sprigs of rosemary for remembrance at the feet of our loved ones, because there are families still waiting for a memorial promised before the first anniversary of the crash. Waiting a year to lay their flowers and their grief.

Instead of a bouquet of flowers, we have a bouquet of broken promises. Shall we count them?

A broken promise to share the final investigative report.
A broken promise over the Monument at the crash site (they want it elsewhere); and a broken promise over the 72 unmarked graves.
A broken promise over Airblue being grounded for negligence, malpractice, manslaughter.
A broken promise to assist the families.
Or maybe we can call this a pending promise, as we wait for an independent inquiry board and a pending promise of greater safety in the skies over Pakistan.
We have our Rosemary for remembrance, but it is bittersweet.