Search Results for 'Pride'

In all of our communities right now, there are husbands and wives, fathers and mothers, who have lost their jobs and are wondering how they are going to make it through the winter and out the far side. They know that there are but a few weeks to Christmas yet they have never been as badly prepared as they are this year. Thousands of homes will experience a Christmas the likes of which they have not experienced for some years.

And now it’s over. When they turn the key and step in, the house seems emptier. It was quiet before they left for Ireland, but now, if it was at all possible, it seems to have lost even more of its heartbeat. The clock ticks in the background — its tick hitting a false note of optimism, its tock emphasising the silence. They look at the door, and sob inside and wish that for just one more time, it would swing open and their bouncy happy daughter would come back in through it. Closure is sometimes seen as the end of a journey, but often it is just a mythical void. The pain in their chests that comes with every waking moment of the horrific realisation has not abated, as they thought it might. Now, alone together for the first time in weeks, they realise that often closure is the beginning of the journey and not an imagined end. Now, the hard work begins. The bit where the desire for justice has left them unfulfilled, the hole in their hearts just too large.