7 years. That's a long time. I was 22. I had been married a little over a year, I had no kids. My life has changed a LOT in 7 years. I have changed a lot in 7 years. My priorites, my relationship with God, my goals, my dreams. Some things have not changed. I can't manage to put all my thoughts about 9/11 down in words. Writing is what I do. It's my coping mechanism. Most of my prayers I write rather than voicing. I have not put my thoughts about that day that as Bloomberg said "started out like any other, and ended like no other" on paper ever. I hadn't planned on it today. Here is the thing. This blog is called 'a living journal' for a reason. I see it as a memoir for my children. this morning I had the tv on and was observing the first moment of silence with tears streaming down my face. My son? playing on my bed with a tube of toothpaste really wanting me to open it for him. Oddly at 1 1/2 he wasn't all that affected by the tv coverage of the memorial. This day defined my generation. If that sounds overly dramatic I would have you try to argue the point. We had never been attacked, never really had a war that affected us, we lived our soft, self-centered, materialistic lives assuming that nothing would ever change that.
Everything changed. 7 years later it hurts like it did then, the anger swells when I see the images. Today like no other I hate that I no longer work in Manhattan. Somehow not being there makes me feel like I am an outsider looking in on someone else's grief. Like I am feeling pain in a wound that is not my own. I know that it touched the whole country. I understand that it was an attack on all of us, our beliefs, our security. It was different if you were a New Yorker. I am not going to write all my experiences that day or the days to come...over time maybe...other anniversaries. Just some of the things that I remember the starkest. I went to college in lower Manhattan. I remember the first day I went back to college. Several blocks up from the WTC site you could still smell the awful smell from there. I was walking toward my college building trying to cope with that and trying to assimilate that in some ways so soon after life was going back to 'normal' when I noticed something on a wall that I was coming up to--something that just seemd new and out of place. When I got there what it was was a wall full of pictures of 'missing' people. Most of them were attached to pieces of paper telling where this person had worked in the towers, when the last contact was made , and a contact number where someone who loved them could be reached if anyone had any information. There was this assumption right after that the hospitals would be overwhelmed with injured, those who couldn't identify themselves, or people would be dazed and wouldn't be able to find there way home. That just wasn't the case. Almost all of those pictures were of people who had perished. However, they remained for MONTHS as a sort of make-shift memorial.
I lost someone I knew. I had worked with him for a few months, we had actually gone out on a few dates before I met the man who is now my husband. He wasn't a Christian, he was still in college so it never went further than a couple of lunch dates but we stayed friends. He would always stop in on summers when he was home for college and a bunch of us would go out to lunch and catch up. I saw him August of 2001. He came in to Lazard because he was done with college and he was so excited because he had gotten a job at Cantor Fitzgerald in the WTC. Less than a month later he was dead. Do you know what kills me? I never ONCE shared my faith with him. I had chances. He knew that I was a Christian, he knew that because he wasn't was the main reason I wouldn't keep dating him. Because he knew that much I patted myself on the back for not being ashamed of my faith. After I heard that he was a victim it could not have been more clear to me how useless it was for him to know what MY faith was.
Well that is a part of where I was "When the world stopped turning". Today the pentagon is opening their memorial . It's time for New York to get on it. Were New Yorkers--were strong, we don't let people hold us down, it's time to replace the hole that has been left in Manhattan with something that like it's people is bigger and stronger than it was before.
3 comments:
That was a beautiful tribute... thanks for sharing!
You know, I managed not to cry all day until I read you and Lauralin's blogs.
I was talking to my SS class last year (1st grade) and reading aloud some of their birthdays, and 2 were born on 9/11/01. I almost started crying-and the kids had NO idea what was wrong. I can't imagine a mom having their baby on the day the towers fell. Until then, everyone was sure America was 'safe'. All of the sudden, you realize the world your baby is growing up in is not nearly as secure as you thought it was.
And, those children have no idea of the magnitude of what went on that day-even if they do know the story. In some ways, life has gone back to normal-but yet, with a reality check in the back of our minds. We are lucky not to live in Israel where it happens all of the time. But yet, we must be on guards, even here in America.
I do hope my children can appreciate 9/11 someday. It's not the same as if you were there. But there are still lessons to be learned that should not be forgotten.
But, I'll probably wait a couple more years before we look at pictures. I don't want to break down and cry!
Thanks.
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