I Read a Devastating Article and Could Not Finish It.
The difference between thinking and feeling about war.
An article about the Russian invasion of Ukraine is linked at the end of this story.
It says it was written by Linda Caroll two weeks ago. I think I saw its initial existence on my feed and turned away. There’s just so much being written, shown on the news.
I get to where I think I know everything I need to know.
But today, in a quiet moment, I started to read Linda’s article, and I got a fair way into it. Then something Linda wrote punched me in the guts. Simple words, a statement of fact:
“Only women and children were allowed to leave. Men 18–60 have to stay to fight.”
That is the part that unraveled me completely.
I live in Australia, and it’s very easy here to believe that Europe, the rest of the world, is far, far away. That we are untouchable. After all, when Covid arrived we slammed down our international borders, mostly kept out the deadly scourge. We were insulated, isolated as we watched country after country ravaged by the disease.
And so we are prone to fall into complacency about wars. Thinking about other people’s wars. Other countries’ destruction. For me, fortunate to live in “the lucky country,” the war in Ukraine is something I can choose to think about or not. And up till that moment, this afternoon, I had not thought about it enough.
Again, I knew all I needed to know. But I hadn’t felt all I needed to feel.
Until I did.
The “king hit,” as we call it a sudden and violent blow, comes with the realization that I have six grandsons between the ages of seven and nineteen.
If you have grandchildren, you will understand the depth of love it is possible to feel for them. We love our children, but not how we love our grandchildren. It is visceral. Made from fear, protection, vulnerability, and more. The wisdom of aging smooths off the need to be in control, to be right, to be the punisher and the rewarder. Love for our children’s children is unlike any other form of love.
When my children were small, I worried about the same things that make every parent anxious. Daily concerns about their happiness, development, and safety. As they grew, I worried whether they would be happy in their relationships, in careers, in life generally. I ticked the boxes as they became forty. Relieved that they were too old to do stupid, dangerous, self-destructive things. Happy that they had survived, and even produced their own happy, healthy children.
Covid has passed. The grandchildren are happy, settled, and all are becoming good men. And that should be the end. The happy ever after moment. The moment to finally breathe.
So here it is again.
“Only women and children were allowed to leave. Men 18–60 have to stay to fight.”
My grandsons, my boys, are 19, 16, 15, 15, 15, and 7. My son is 45. Putting them in the front line of war is unthinkable, but today I was forced to feel about it.
War is about the heart. About traumatizing fear and crippling grief. You can talk about the whys and why not ad nauseam, but war is about who. It’s about Russians and Ukrainians, about your loved ones and mine.
And because war will always get what it wants, that is something we all need to think and feel about as soon as possible.
Out of respect for Linda’s amazing article, I have cut and pasted the links she provided at the bottom of her article, here:
— Open Democracy has a list of ways to help Ukrainian civilians — Canada Helps has a list of ways Canadians can help — The Washington Post compiled a list for Americans — Ryan Reynolds will match your donation up to a million — The National Bank of Ukraine accepts donations online