Hot Word Era - Selected Commentaries from Southern Metropolis Daily [Volume 1]

Author: Li Wenkai
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-06-01
Features: Once we shared life and death, now we are reunited. How can we forget the shared pain? If death is covered in dust, it is just history on paper. Only by constantly raising it up will it bleed and. The same is true for death—if it involves thousands, it is just data on paper. Rather, the personal accounts of specific cases reveal the raw suffering of life. Thus, if you choose to forget, please turn it into data and seal it in history. But if you want to take from this breath of death the dignity of life and the courage to live, let us learn to remember until we can calmly touch the tears in each other's eyes and the pain in our hearts.
This passage is dedicated to the unprecedented air disaster that occurred at Guangzhou Baiyun Airport 14 years ago, on the eve of the Mid-Autumn Festival. It is dedicated to the 128 victims who perished in the October 2nd collision of three planes. It is dedicated to the survivors who experienced inexplicable terror and the chasm of life and death—some of whom, touched by the article "A Century of Airport" in this newspaper, finally reunited. In a mix of solemnity, confusion, relief, and enlightenment, they revisited a chapter of history that was just data, thus revealing more vivid and detailed colors.
Fourteen years have passed. Some have aged, others have faded, but none have forgotten the urge and longing to find those they once shared life and death with. For these survivors, the memory of this brutal shock and fear must be released through resonance and then soothed in the process of release. There is, however, a regret: such an opportunity had to wait 14 years—how long a wait it was—perhaps for some survivors, it was a time they could never afford to miss.
Thus, we recall the warmth after the sinking of the Titanic: survivors agreed to meet every 10 years in Lausanne, Switzerland, to comfort each other and dispel the lingering ice of nightmares. Yet even 10 years was too long—a 1982 gathering saw only 11 attendees. To meet more often, they decided to change the frequency to once every five years.
Of course, this grief does not exist only in the memories of the survivors. The victims are gone, but how could the families of the deceased have endured such heart-wrenching pain, gradually easing their sorrow in dreams? Over these 14 years, was there ever a chance for them to gather, to cry freely and then to comfort each other with strong hugs—promising to call when they were vulnerable and to offer support when they were struggling?
No, if disasters strike unexpectedly, the healing after should have been something to look forward to. Take the small town of Somerville near New York, for example. On September 11, 33 people there did not return to their wives and children. But soon after, these women who shared the same fate began meeting weekly. They displayed photos of their deceased loved ones, played music, lit candles, placed flowers, and wrote cards, finding strength in shared sorrow and mutual support to emerge from the shadow of death.
In fact, the pain of disaster affects a broader group. In the Baiyun Airport "October 2nd" collision, among the 128 victims, most were unaware and unprepared, silently falling prey to death. Their deaths were brutal but not heroic, innocent and passive, lacking any noble justification. But precisely because of this, it seems even more necessary to reflect: how did this disaster come about? Were all possible measures taken at the time? Especially regarding the other two planes involved, why were the passengers not in time, leading to greater casualties?
The truth and details of history may yet be revealed, but here, we must give voice to this pain of disaster. It is the shared pain of all, near or far, living or dead. How can we forget it, how could we dare to forget it? Thus, at the very least, we cannot allow the end of so many lives to go undocumented, leaving no witness to history or no lesson for the future—even a brief record must be deeply engraved on stone, standing prominently to block the path, allowing future generations to touch and gaze upon it, gathering the unbroken sentiment into a beam of reverence for life, continuously healing this nation scarred by disaster. (2004-07-10)