This wasn’t the blog post I had planned for this week. I was going to share our fears last weekend when our precious Princess was taken ill. However, that can wait for another day.
Like everyone, I watched in disbelief and horror as the news of the Manchester terror attack unfolded this week. Although now living in Yorkshire, I am proud of my Manchester heritage and this attack felt personal. Most of my family still live in towns to the north and east of the city. Outside the Arena is a common drop-off point and my youngest sister goes through that station every day on her way to and from work.
I am lucky – none of my family went to the concert, or were passing at the time. I cannot begin to understand how people who had children, brothers, sisters, friends there must feel. Whether their loved ones are safe but traumatised, injured or worse, it is something most of us just hope we never have to experience.
If there are positives to take from this terrible attack, it is that the community pulled together when it counted. I only hope that this solidarity continues when the dust has settled. I have faith that it will.
In the midst of such tragedy, I have realised that, totally unconsciously, I have written of “hope” and “faith”. We need to hold on to those things at times like this. And I wanted to make public that, again like everyone else who was not involved, we are thinking of those who were.
As blog posts go, this is one of my shortest. However, I make no apology for that. As the young singer whose concert it was said herself – “There are no words”.