You know, I have looked around and wondered how it's possible for us all to go to work like life is normal. For us to smile and talk about our weekend plans or what we packed for lunch. Heck, for my family to leave Saturday morning for what promises to be a really amazing and relaxing 2-week vacation. But at the same time...how do we not? I do what I can to resist right now. Honestly, I have to be careful. I work for government, so I'm afraid to do too much. But I do what I can.
I know what you mean. I go to my little job, day in and day out, and I wonder if everything's going to fall apart, but unless and until that happens... gotta pay the bills. I have to live as if tomorrow will be pretty much like today.
There's a quote from Primo Levi's "Se Questo e un Uomo," recounting the night before he and all the other residents of the ghetto were shipped off to Auschwitz, (they were told they'd be leaving the next day, and they had a good idea what awaited them, even if they didn't know the details):
E venne la notte, e fu una notte tale, che si conobbe che occhi umani non avrebbero dovuto assistervi e sopravvivere. Tutti sentirono questo: nessuno dei guardiani, né italiani né tedeschi, ebbe animo di venire a vedere che cosa fanno gli uomini quando sanno di dover morire. Ognuno si congedò dalla vita nel modo che più gli si addiceva. Alcuni pregarono, altri bevvero oltre misura, altri si inebriarono di nefanda ultima passione. Ma le madri vegliarono a preparare con dolce cura il cibo per il viaggio, e lavarono i bambini, e fecero i bagagli, e all’alba i fili spinati erano pieni di biancheria infantile stesa al vento ad asciugare; e non dimenticarono le fasce, e i giocattoli, e i cuscini, e le cento piccole cose che esse ben sanno, ed i cui i bambini hanno in ogni caso bisogno. Non fareste anche voi altrettanto? Se dovessero uccidervi domani col vostro bambino, voi non gli dareste oggi da mangiare?
My translation skills aren't the greatest, but it roughly reads:
"And the night came, and it was such a night that you knew human eyes could never witness and survive. Everyone felt this: none of the guards, neither Italian nor German, had the heart to come see what people do when they know they must die. Everyone took his leave of life in the way that most suited him. Some prayed, others drank without measure, others intoxicated themselves with some last, nefarious passion. But the mothers stayed up late to prepare, with sweet care, food for the trip, and washed the children, and packed suitcases, and at dawn the barbed wire was filled with infant's laundry stretched in the wind to dry; and don't forget the swaddling, and the toys, and the pillows, and the hundred little things that they knew well, and which all children need. Wouldn't you do the same? If you had to be killed tomorrow along with your child, would you not feed them today?"
Sometimes all you can do is go along as if things are normal.