A Tragic Day

Sometimes the news is a lot of fun to report on.  Sometimes it’s routine and hard to tell apart from the previous day, week, or year.  And then, like last Tuesday, there are situations where you wish the whole report had been some kind of mistake.  Everything’s fine, nothing to worry about, just a miscommunication.

But it wasn’t, of course.  Frank Julian Johnson died in the course of his day’s work, waking up with that outcome likely the furthest thing from his perception.

Because the mines employ so many people in the county, and so many contractors that interact with so many others, and so many families that know families that know contractors and so on, the news was vaguely and widely out by afternoon.  The single driving concern, visible on the faces of those who knew something had happened but not exactly what, was “is it my loved one?”  Is it my son or daughter?  Brother or sister?  Wife or husband?  My dad?  My mom?  

Most people were able to achieve the overwhelming relief that pushes that terror down, or at least changes its nature.  But not everyone.  And for the family and friends and co-workers of Frank Johnson there was none of that relief.  

If the past is a guide, the community will be generous in reaching out and holding Frank’s family and memory close.  But on its own that can’t assuage the pain, nor offer an answer for how such a tragedy could take place in the normal light of day.

There will be many people from that day with real trauma as a result, and many people who will need to talk about it with someone.  If you are one of them, please, be honest with yourself about your emotions and find someone who can listen.  Everyone else, be that someone.