7/7

Today is the one-year anniversary of the London train bombings.  According to Rachel From North London, a blogger who was on the Picadilly line that day and barely escaped with her life:

The bomb went off in my carriage, about 7 feet behind me. 26 people died in [the Picadilly line] blast and 340 were maimed and wounded. 56 people died in the London blasts. Over 700 were injured. Thousands were frightened and affected by the blasts.

One cannot understand the enormity of these events unless one leaves the numbers behind and starts to focus on individuals (and their loved ones, and their families, and their friends) — each one an entire world.  For example:

The first victim to be formally identified was Susan Levy . . . who was traveling from her home in Hertfordshire to the City, where she worked as a legal secretary.

Mrs. Levy, 53, was described by her husband Harry as a "devoted and much-loved wife and mother of two sons" — Daniel, 25, and Jamie, 23.

"We are all devastated by our loss," said Mr. Levy.

"She was a valued and respected member of her extended Jewish family and will be deeply mourned and sadly missed by us and her many friends."

Born on 17 December 1951, Mrs. Levy had become accustomed to sharing the first half of her 17-mile commute from Newgate Street Village, near Cuffley, with her younger son.

On the morning of the attacks she had said goodbye to Jamie, who got off at Finsbury Park, while she remained on the Piccadilly Line train which exploded underneath

. . .

"Sue was very much a loving mother," Mr. Levy’s cousin Jason told the Hoddesdon and Broxbourne Mercury.

"They were the most tight-knit family imaginable. They did everything together. I feel for the two boys — they are absolutely devastated." . . .

"Her smile was enchanting, her laughter contagious," said Lucille and Edward Welchman. 

Here are the pictures of all who died. 

But even more than for those who died, sympathy is required for the survivors — the spouse; the children, the friends.  If you have ever visited survivors of suicide bombings in Israel, you realize that they will never be the same; they will always be afraid; they are permanent prisoners of war — a barbaric war.  This is what Rachel From North London wrote in her blog two days ago:

Not every minute of my life is taken up with it; this blog and the campaign are where I put it all. I am also trying to rest and look after myself. But when the weather is the same, the news is all 7/7, it is hard to get away and find a space where I am not Rachel North, Bomb Survivor, just Rachel. The person I was before all this madness started, when I could see without smoke and tears in my eyes, when I could watch the news without seeing my face and the faces of people I know, and care about; the person who got on a train a year ago on a wet summer morning, with a light heart and nothing to fear and everything to look forward to. It feels like a lot longer than a year. I wish I could turn back the clock, that I had never got on the train, that the bombers had changed their minds and decided not to go through with it. I wish.

You can read about this event in the opening pages of Melanie Phillips’ important new book “Londonistan.” If you do, you will likely finish it, and understand why the significance of the event extends far beyond London and the U.K.