15:44.

It was a Sabbath morning, a day after Christmas, and they – all those who are now not – were living.

Those who lived and worked by the coastal areas were hard at work, at their daily toil, making a living out of fishery and tourism. Those they served – the tourists – were sleeping off hangovers or making merry, living the coveted life these coastal resorts advertised.

It is the end of the year. Finally a break from the grind. Holidays were being enjoyed, reflections were being made, life was being had at a slower pace by lovers, families, friends.

And then it all ended.

No lingering goodbyes were allowed; no last hugs or kisses; for some, no last looks and till now, for some, no chance to look upon a loved one’s face.

For too many, their loved ones are in the dust, swept out at sea, bodies mingling with debris and dead animals. For way too many, there is no closure and only torment.

Too much have happened in an unexplainable act of nature. And we all know science cannot explain away pain.

The sun still shines but it can no longer warm them. On those islands and in the countries where destruction has taken over, who can look up to enjoy blue skies and balmy weather? Death is the only thing you can smell, see and feel. The Grim Reaper has done his work in a glorious sweep and with death’s marks evident all around, you wonder if being alive now is something to be thankful for.

The only peace belongs to those whose lives were snatched from them but who now are in a better place. But not all are.

50,000 and counting. Numbers have never seem so loaded, never been so despised, never became such hated harbingers of doom.

And the world moves on, as linear time dictates. People still laugh and make merry, parties are thrown and wine are drunk, dreams are made and consumed. God is not a respecter of men, and His ways, who can understand?

Why, Lord? Why?

Entire islands now underwater, so much lost. And we don’t even care as much as we should. And linear time, one-way, carries us forward as if what happened on Sunday does not even require a respectful pause.

How is the world going to move on from these? It will. But it is still baffling. How could we move on from these when the right thing is to stop all clocks and traffic, still every humming bird and song, and be silent.

For they are gone.