I know I didn't post on 9/11. I'm sorry. I couldn't. You see, 8 years later, I still can't.
I know we all remember. I know we all recall exactly where we were when we found out, where we were when IT happened. But I still haven't let go.
You see, my sweet, broken hearted brother had just committed suicide a month before. I was still reeling from losing him. I had a hole in my heart the size of Texas, or at least, you could say that it was big enough to fly three or four large commercial jets through. And then the worst horror of my life occurred on that beautiful, clear morning on the eleventh of September, 2001. I was lost.
I remember that I had been out for a walk with my friend Melinda. How clever we felt to be out getting fit. The sky was as blue as it could possibly have been. It was early, and I had left Darrin in the shower and the kids sleeping. I would be quick, and back before he left for work, and then I would get Tori ready for school. I said goodbye to Melinda at the corner, and skipped up the stairs and into the house, to find Darrin standing in front of the tv. The first plane had hit. I ran to the door and called Melinda back. She came running in. We quickly agreed it had to be an accident. She left, and ran home to her family. Darrin had to go to work. Goodbye. I love you.
Then the second plane hit. I fell to the floor right there in the living room, in front of the tv. I stiffled a scream. The babies, MY babies were sleeping. I wept in silence. I called Darrin on his cell phone when I thought he would have driven far enough to have reception. He had heard on the radio. There was no way it was an accident, we agreed. We prayed together. The kids were waking up. What should I do? I turned on their shows in the living room, and turned on the tv in my room. Of course it would be the news on almost every channel. Thank goodness for Disney. The kids could be safe while I watched in silent horror.
Everything moved in such slow motion, and yet everything happened at once. I still don't understand how it happened. I was holding the phone to my face, the door to our bedroom was closed, while I spoke quietly and rapidly to Darrin. I watched the tv, giving him minute-by-minute commentary of what the tv people were saying. And then it happened. I couldn't comprehend it. I couldn't voice it. What was happening??? And then I was screaming, and I was on the floor again . . . "It's falling!!! It's falling!!! One of the buildings is just falling! NOOOOOO!!!! It's just gone! There's nothing left! It's just gone!!! Where did it gooooo???? NOOOOOOO!!! All those people!!! . . ." And Darrin was asking over and over again "What? What are you saying??? What's happening?????" And all I could do was sob in answer.
Finally I calmed down enough to speak through my sobs. I explained what I could. He heard the rest on the radio. Finally we hung up. It was unimaginable. Nothing like this could happen on American soil. We were safe! We were strong! We demanded respect from the world! Who would dare do this to us? My mind was reeling. And still I watched. The news media was wild with all the questions my mind could imagine.
And then the unimaginable happened again. This time I was sitting when it happened, and I jumped to my feet, already dialing Darrin. Before he could speak, I was screaming into the phone again. "It's happening again. The other tower is falling! It's just like before! . . ." And then the news of the Pentagon, and then the news of the other plane . . . Darrin came home. What else was there? The roads were empty, he said. Everyone was home.
The skies were empty. They were empty for days. I remember the first plane that flew over our home. I cringed, and then I cried.
When George Bush declared a day of rememberance, the Friday following 9/11, I organized a candlelight vigil in our town. The idea came to me just on a whim. I put the word out on the internet, I made phone calls, I ran to neighbors and had them make phone calls. I didn't know if anyone would come, but I told everyone to come and bring candles, and come prepared to say something if they wanted to. I wanted them to just come. We needed to be together, to be ONE, to cry together, to hug, to heal a little if we could, to feel the safety of togetherness. I needed it, so I knew others would too. So I just said "COME!", and I waited to see if they would. We met at twilight, at the firestation, around the flagpole. The flag was at half mast. As my little family and I stood together there, what I saw was amazing and wonderful. It was just like the scene at the end of Field of Dreams - cars streaming down Eagle Mountain Blvd. toward the firestation. You could see their headlights coming and coming in the distance. I just cried again (I was doing a lot of that.) It was dark by the time we were all assembled. Someone had thought to bring a microphone, thankfully, because so many had come. I thanked everyone for coming out. We sang a patriotic song, and then people who wanted to make remarks did so. Some were simple, some were just so profound I'll never forget them. We sang our national anthem - so loud and so proud! It was the most beautiful and moving thing I've ever been a part of! And then we started with one little flame, and passed the flame throughout the crowd of hundreds until every candle was lit, and had a moment of silence for our brothers and sisters who had fallen in terror and in service, and for those who were mourning their loss.
I weep for them still.
I will never, ever forget.
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I remember at the time not thinking "how could someone do this?" because, unfortunately, I believe some people are just that evil. I remember I was thinking, almost individually taking some time in each persons head, how they must have been feeling. Feeling overwhelmed by each set of possible emotions. Helplessness, fear, resignation, resolve, courage, unity.
ReplyDeleteI especially remember thinking about those who had children with them on the planes. How sad I would have been to know their lives would be cut short. And those who had a chance to call loved ones to say goodbye. How freaking heart-wrenching!
But I mostly could not get out of my head the men on the Pennsylvania plane. How they worked through all that in a matter of minutes and then took decisive action. How so many on that plane died knowing that they did what they could to save other lives. I'm sure that if those on the other planes had had time, they would have done the same. It's just what is at the root of the human spirit! For every bit of evil, there is bravery and love times a hundred!
Your tribute was an example of this, because not only did it take place in Eagle Mountain, but it was repeated several thousand times over across the country! Everyone wanted to do SOMETHING!
When I remember 9/11, of course the tragedy of it washes over me anew. But inevitably, the feelings turn to those of amazing, awesome pride at our country's patriotism! It's who we are. We should remember it more often than once or twice a year.
Your comments make me cry again . . . I just do that a lot. That desire to do SOMETHING, as you said, I remember that intense burning inside me. There was a fireman in our community, a rescue worker, who went to New York and worked on The Pile. He would post progress notes, if you could call it progress, every day. We would weep with him from across the country. He was so tired, and we grew more weary with him as the days wore on, and the rescue turned to recovery. Our hearts were one with his. All these years later, I don't even remember his name, but I will always hold a very tender and special place for him in my heart. He was, and is, my brother in arms. He stood on that Pile doing the work I could not do, but would have done if I was able. He shed the blood, sweat and tears that I would have shed right alongside him if I had been able - because we are Americans, and that really means something. That still means something to me, and I hope it really means something to most people. I know there are many for whom the feeling has dimmed, but for me, it never will. It sounds like it burns bright in you too.
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