I still choke up every time I read about the kids that died in the 2008 Wenchuan Earthquake.
I’ll remember the pictures of a girl impaled on rebar as screaming parents reached up to her … one of them balanced on crumbling concrete trying to reach her before she faded out. I’ll see the blood drip hot down on their faces and just bust out crying.
I’ll remember the picture in Shifan of the little girl whose body was crushed between two floors of her school … her torso was stretched unnaturally and her shoes just missed touching the rubble below.
Or I’ll remember a picture of a father cradling his daughter — one of the survivors — mouth open in a silent scream as he contemplated what could have been.