Sole Survivor

I was watching the news yesterday, when a specific story jumped out at me: an Afriqiyah Airlines flight crashed right before its landing at the Tripoli Airport in Libya. The flight was en route from Johannesburg, South Africa and a recorded 104 passengers and crew all perished. They are currently investigating the cause behind the plane's combustion, but officials have called it "an accident".


What really stuck out to me, and most observers of this particular case, was the fact that the ONLY survivor onboard the doomed flight was a 10-year-old Dutch boy. Of the 105 people onboard the flight, by some "miracle" (and I use that term loosely), this young boy was the only person found alive, with broken legs. 
I was instantly touched by this detail. It was like something straight out of a Final Destination flick, or a bestselling novel. I can only image the heavy, impending feeling of doom as you realize that not only have you been involved in a plane crash that took away your parents, but that everyone else onboard- that old lady with the loud snoring down the aisle, that crying baby whose earned his parents some sneers from the other passengers, that young, newly engaged couple who can't seem to get enough of one another- all gone, leaving you alone to deal with the emotional aftermath, the survivor's guilt. Once the dust has settled and you realize that fate's  ugly hands have torn away your family and there's nothing else to be done, there's that unavoidable feeling of purpose. By virtue of being the sole survivor, you necessarily start questioning why. You weigh out the facts and slowly become wrapped up in the idea that there was some sort of divine intervention, some reason for you to have been the only survivor. Still though, I can imagine the terrifying thoughts, the relentless nightmares that transport you back to the fateful day you and your family decided to do what millions of people do everyday: board a plane to reach their destination...