At Udon Thani hospital, we witness an insufferable procession of grief.
We’re standing by a slim street as a convoy of automobiles arrive. Inside, are the our bodies of the lifeless from the worst mass taking pictures in Thailand‘s historical past.
A freezer truck pulls up and coffin after coffin emerges. Medical staff line the road frantically making an attempt to get in line to hold the coffins to the doorways of the hospital.
Many are brightly colored, some adorned with ornament. The line appears limitless. It appears like an meeting line.
I stand there questioning how their little days began, what they ate for breakfast, what they performed with, who they performed with, how they stated goodbye.
What confusion and horror will need to have stuffed their eyes after they noticed the attacker stroll into their protected area, a spot that is meant to be a haven for play and studying.
The particulars are sickening. So many had been killed as they had been taking a day nap. Some of the academics have described begging the gunman for mercy.
One was apparently killed as she held a baby in her arms. One official tells me only a few survived.
But at Nong Bua Lamphu hospital, we discover some hope.
Sitting exterior the intensive care unit, I meet Joy, whose son Sumaee has simply had two bullets faraway from his head by two expert neurosurgeons.
Joy tells me he was stabbed within the head after which shot twice.
His mom went to the varsity when she heard the horrifying information. She describes in visceral element seeing our bodies and blood in all places.
“I fainted,” she says. But then, her husband noticed Sumaee being carried out by a rescue workforce on to an ambulance.
Joy stated she tried to focus all her vitality on reassuring him. “I was holding his legs and feet in the ambulance and trying to tell him to be strong.”
She cries as she exhibits me image and movies of them collectively over time.
What unfathomable violence he witnessed. And what utter depravity his mom has now seen up shut.
Her misery is compounded by the final trade she had with him, which she retains taking part in over in her thoughts.
He’d begged her to not go to high school. “But I forced him,” she says.
They are the conversations so many people have had at some stage with our youngsters. Her sense of remorse is crippling to listen to.
She, like each different father or mother and each different little one that day, had each motive to imagine they had been protected.
Source: information.sky.com”