Last Wednesday, we left the island of Ischia and headed to the state of Abruzzo in central Italy. We woke up early that morning to catch the ferry, and I was surprised to find a text from a friend in the US. “Are you two okay? I heard about the earthquake.” Since we didn’t have wifi or phone connections, I didn’t know what she was talking about.

As the morning unfolded, we learned that there had been a 6.2 earthquake in central Italy. Several small towns were partially or completely destroyed. Because the quake happened at 3:36 am, people were sleeping in their homes and were unable to get to safety. At last count, 290 people were dead, a few hundred more injured, and 2,000 homeless.

It’s now Monday. There is still continued coverage on the news. It’s all over the television. People are still talking about it. I met one couple who live in that area and are fortunate to have a vacation house where we are now staying. They said that their primary home was not damaged but they have come to stay in their vacation home so they can be able to go to sleep at night without worrying for their safety.

Several image stick with me.

A photo of a nun with blood on her habit; she was one of four nuns living in her convent, and she is the only survivor.

A civic building collapsed into rubble, but somehow the clock tower is still standing.

An entire village destroyed with rescue workers and dogs climbing the mountain of rubble, looking for survivors.

A young girl discovered alive, under the rubble, 24 hours later.

The Italian prime minister hugging the survivors and the families of the victims.

On Saturday, there was a Catholic mass to remember the victims, and it was broadcast live on TV. There was a boy of about 14 years old sobbing as the priest placed the communion wafer in his mouth. I was sitting in a small bar watching this while using the internet, and I felt almost guilty for carrying on with my little insignificant blog while others were coping with such loss. Just remembering this boy’s grief brings tears to my eyes again.

The lives of these people are forever changed. They have lost friends and family. They have lost the security of their daily lives. They have lost their sense of Place. Some of these villages are gone forever as it will be too expensive to rebuild. Even if they could rebuild, it would never be the same. I feel especially sorry for the older generation, many of whom grew up in these little villages and were intending to live out their days in their hometown. Now they must start over at 70, 80 years of age.

It makes me feel grateful to be able to spend this week with Chad’s family and friends. Everyone here in Abruzzo has been so nice and welcoming. In a time when others have been mourning and trying to pick up the pieces, I have been fortunate to be surrounded by wonderful people who are celebrating life and embracing everyone as family, as though we have known each other our whole lives. This past week has been a reminder to appreciate every minute, every person, every experience as it happens.