Live and let live, please

My dead body count is five.

- CARINE HARTMAN

Let me clarify: five people I loved who died and I didn't mind seeing their bodies. It made me realize what I see is just an object; an inanimate plank even a loving hand can't bring to life ever again; the person I loved is just not there.

For two I sat watching that last gasp and felt guiltily relieved.

And that's what I'm used to as a journalist for half a century now: guilt.

Guilt because I never spoke up for the bloodied body parts, the bodies under foil covers, the little girl with staring eyes and the safety pin her mom pushed through her windpipe.