This piece, by an anonymous contributor, reflects on the recent news story, the death of Daniel Pelka.
I’ve been watching and listening in awe to everyone’s opinions about who is to blame for the death of another child. For some, the answer is simple and for others, discussions will take place. But what if you’re the sibling of a murdered child, how would you feel then?
It’s a life sentence, a real life sentence – one that you have no choice but to live.
The everlasting guilt and shame you feel for living and not dying are tremendous. You wonder if people would judge you if they knew, tell you that you had no right to be here. You spend so much of your life being frightened, mainly of the unknown. You go on searches for answers because you need it to make some kind of sense, but you never find them. What you believe to be real has somehow been distorted and so you become more lost. You know as a child you would have saved them, but you couldn’t because you had no choice, so you do question which is worse – the adults who committed the crime or the adults who should have protected but watched. You don’t really want someone to blame but you want someone to take responsibility. You want someone to recognise how you feel, someone to tell you it wasn’t right and that it wasn’t your fault. You want someone to acknowledge what they saw the first time they saw it, because you know they saw it. You need someone to say sorry so that you know that it’s all real, that what you have lived through was and is real.