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Source: ONE News
Last Thursday I listened to a woman cry as she told of watching another woman die on February 22nd. She was giving evidence to the Royal Commission.
She spoke about the roof falling in and the air full of that thick, clogging dust. Huge beams slamming down. She said she'll never forget the empty thud of broken bricks clunking to the ground.
She was the last person to speak to that woman who died.
Coming home was never going to be easy.
I left in September, a year after that 7.1 earthquake put the first cracks in my hometown. I've got a new home in Auckland now, but still can't go to bed without lying my breakables down.
I feel stupid that I'm the only one in the Auckland newsroom who jumps as the floor shakes when a busy colleague comes thundering past. It is the little things that make you realise you've changed.
Change is one of those things we've all had to get used to. The city I grew up in has certainly changed. She smiles at me now with her gap-toothed smile, stinking empty lot after stinking empty lot.
I've read a lot of articles that talk about all this incredible hope and opportunity that comes with those empty lots, some kind of beauty in the midst of destruction, but driving around Christchurch I am constantly reminded of that hopeless roll call of people who died.
Sometimes I try to explain to people, my family, what we all saw in the centre of Christchurch that day. My words never seem to match up with what I can still see in my head. A year later it is still loud and it is still grey. I get frustrated with people when they don't understand.
I feel separate from them. Different.
There are still questions too, which the Royal Commission is attempting to answer. Like, after September, why were people allowed back in some buildings at all? Why weren't we prepared for the shock that came in February when we'd had such a violent teaser in September?
Listening from the media portacabin which is camped out the back of the hearing, the dry post-mortem can be hard listening.
It's true, no-one could have truly predicted the horror of February 22nd, but were we ever in touch with reality enough to really be prepared?
Life goes on though and people do move forward. Streets are being opened, and life is slowing crawling back toward the city centre.
I wouldn't call it a new normal, we all know life in a shipping container isn't normal, but the Christchurch community has certainly learned to carry on living without straight lines.
Accepting that no matter how much we evaluate, how much we measure, how much we strengthen, this is a city ruled by mother nature.
Now, a year after that terrible shake it is time to come together and reflect. To take a break from 'getting on with it' and allow our minds to return to that day.
We will remember those who were less fortunate than us, and I for one will take the time to once again feel thankful that somehow I managed to get out of the city center alive.
We will also take the time to remember that with the bad, has also come an extraordinary amount of good. A group of 136 Cantabrians are set to receive a Civic award.
Our neighbours and friends who carried out dramatic rescues and saved lives. People who sprung into action instead of reeling in shock.
Tomorrow marks a recognition of the continuing bravery and kindness that's formed a back-bone here as the community rebuilds. It's time for us to celebrate and thank our local heroes.
I'm not sure we need another starry-eyed column about how exciting it is to have our very own blank canvas, so insert [hopeful words about the future] here.
It's hard to believe it's been a year, I've learnt more than I ever could have imagined.
Read more Ruth Wynn-Williams opinion
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