This is Halifax Harbour in 2018, the last time I was there. I was on an early morning run. Now the worst mass shooting in Canadian history has occurred in rural NS, with 20 reported victims (at this writing). This is extraordinary to begin with, and even more stunning when you take into consideration the time we’re in, the physical and emotional isolation that is happening all around us, the global suffering. It’s difficult to imagine the full scope of grief that the affected families must be experiencing, how there is loss on top of loss.
I was born and raised in Nova Scotia. The province has been the scene of various disasters and tragedies over the decades, too many for its small size (mining disasters, the downing of Swiss Air 111, and most of all the Halifax Explosion). And yet it speaks to the tenacity of Nova Scotians that, similar to New Yorkers actually, there is an ability to gather up and rise, to keep going. This is an uncertain time, however, one in which the level of not-knowing has been acutely felt by everyone for weeks before this happened. Mourning in isolation, without the benefit of funerals and public gatherings of condolence, is another new thing that people in NS are now forced to learn.
People use this phrase (especially on social media), “My heart goes out—” It’s a cliché, but now that I think about it, it’s also beautiful, the idea of one’s heart traveling out to meet another, to reach over the miles and embrace, console, give something that is intangible but utterly foundational and important; the heart given as a gift: Here, take it. It is yours.