It has taken me a few days to process our visits to the Nagasaki and Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museums. I am still quite sure that this blog post will be utterly inadequate. How can I convey the overwhelming pain and sorrow in the exhibits? Each museum ended with positive notes of peace, and dire warnings of the use of future nuclear bombs, but those parts were such a blur. My heart basically stopped in the aftermath portions of the museum. In Nagasaki, by far the most intense experience for me was touching a twisted glass bottle and a scorched brass name-plate, and almost hearing the screams of pain from those long dead victims. In Nagasaki I let it all inside, and almost lost myself in the empathy for the scarred bricks and carbonized rice, if that makes sense. Of course I completely lost it when reading the survivor accounts. Afterwards, we sat in the neighboring peace park for a bit, where I cried my eyes out.
In Hiroshima, I was able to put up some defenses and blocks, mostly for my own sake, which helped ameliorate the pain, but also helped me see past the blinding anguish to appreciate how far each city has come. It is truly amazing to walk the streets of Nagasaki and Hiroshima, the friendliest cities we've stayed in so far, and see the peace and happiness of the people. Everywhere there are long strings of colorful paper cranes, an homage to Sadako Sasaki, a girl who died of leukemia from exposure to the radiation from the bomb. There is almost a joy in the memorial statues and plaques that dot the city, and a firm emphasis on supporting all people lucky to be still living.
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