There are all these levels of human experience that seem, especially at the moment, to exist in parallel with each other. The trauma that the people of Ukraine are going through plays out before our eyes and ears while we work, walk in the sun, eat, laugh, drink and sleep in warm, safe beds. I struggle to make sense of it. Perhaps there is no sense to be made. And then I think of all those who lost dear ones during the height of the pandemic. And then of my sister in law having to cope with the death of her husband and the stroke that took away, at least for a while, her capacity to walk, speak and be independent. She has responded to the cataclysmic upending of her world with such fortitude, humour and stoicism that at times I am moved to silence by it. Her much-loved home has been sold and her life is now lived out in one room in an old people’s home (along with her 100 teddies). She is cheerful enough. He called her at the weekend. Can’t talk now, she said, I’m off to Bingo.
