My grief comes in waves. Recently I’ve been in a trough, although there are thousand little peaks and lows between every crest. Every hour is not gloomy, but I can recognize the trough from the sheer quantity of lows. It’s been a lot.
The other night I watched a 1984 documentary, Streetwise, about the lives of street kids in Seattle at the time. It’s an amazing piece of art, intensely honest and tragic and beautiful. The kids were all running from something even more grim than life on the streets. It’s grim all the same. Boys peddle, thieve, and pull tricks to scrape by. Girls sell the only product that they can. Everyone finds escape somehow, usually chemical.
My dad reminded me strongly of one of the main children the documentary followed, Rat. They grew up similarly; no dad, absent mom, combative, savvy, and proud. He pulled tricks and sold things and I grew up hearing the glory stories as if it were a fairy tale. We all know how he ended up.
There are between 100 and 150 million children living in the streets around the world RIGHT NOW. 250,000 die EVERY WEEK from diseases and malnutrition. 2 million children are objects of sexual abuse. Child pornography and demand for child prostitutes continues to increase globally.
And the ripples caused by each tragedy are felt for generations.