By ALISSA WARREN
I cannot imagine a life without my children in it.
Three little people make up my world.
Three teeny, tiny humans. Their little hands, their little giggles, their little shoulders, their creamy skin, the smell of their breath in the morning and their warm little cuddles.Three little people who I didn’t even know five years ago mean everything to me.
My. Three. Little. People.
But today, there are two parents who can imagine a world without their three children. Two parents who have been brutally forced into that bewildering, eviscerating world. Two parents who are in mourning.
Two parents who are living in a house that was once full of the laughing, bickering and chatting of their three young children. They sit in sadness in a house full of toys, school bags and kitchen drawers full of kid-friendly Tupperware and drink bottles. All these things: orphaned.
Anthony Maslin and Marite Norris are living a life most of us can’t imagine. A life without their children. Last week, they were living as blissfully as I am. And probably, you. They were living, what I imagine to be, a pretty normal Australian life.
Until their children, Mo, 12, Evie, 10, and Otis, 8, boarded flight MH17 to come home with their grandfather.
That good bye was their last.
And it was only until I read Anthony and Marite’s statement that my heart plummeted. Because it was more than a statement. It was a letter. A real and honest letter.
Our pain is intense and relentless. We live in a hell beyond hell.
Our babies are not here with us – we need to live with this act of horror, every day and every moment for the rest of our lives.
Like you, I’d seen their faces. Mo’s. Evie’s. Otis’s. For days. Most of the week, actually. I’d stared at those little children, smiling up at me from news sites and newspapers. I certainly felt sad when I looked at their photo. But I felt it because I should and because I was, well, genuinely sad. These young children had lost a life for no good reason. They’d been robbed of their dreams.
But their dreams weren’t the only dreams that’d been robbed.