What do you even say? How do you comprehend what happened that day? I'm not sure how I feel about the media attention and endless amounts of programs replaying the horrific images of the planes flying into the towers. It's painful for all Americans, but I can't imagine the pain of the ones who lost somebody that day. I know we have to (and should) commemorate 9/11 and be proud of how our nation has rebounded. But the visual imagery is a shock to the system. Even 10 years later.
Where were you? What were you doing? I was at my mom's house, getting ready for morning classes at Midland College. I had the t.v. on to the Today Show and couldn't figure out what to do with my hair. Without warning, the broadcast changed from a typical report to one of confusion, fear, and utter disbelief. I, like I'm sure all of you, was glued to the t.v. I couldn't stop watching. Even though the images and confusion were astounding and unfathomable, it was such an unexpected event that I feared looking away. I feared missing more or looking away at the wrong time and not hearing or seeing something that would allow it all to make sense. I felt frozen. I didn't know what to do, where to go, what to say. I remember talking to my mom (she was at work), although I don't recall the details of our conversation. I know my thoughts went to Matt and my dear friend Kat who were both at Texas Tech, and I wondered if they were in class or if they had seen the news. I never made it to class that day. I sat on the bed, curled in a ball, and could not stop watching the horror unfold.
Mine isn't a unique story or even that interesting. I'm sure many of you reading this did the exact same thing. However, each of us remembers and knows the intial shock and pain we felt, and the utter sadness. This year I'm thinking of the attacks in a way I haven't before: how do I explain this to Lyla? She is so receptive and observant now, and I know every year at this time she'll be exposed to the stories, the images, the sadness. What do the families who have "9/11 babies" say to their now 10 or 11 year old children? How have they explained the national mourning each year? Heck, even my little cousin, who is incredibly intelligent and mature, seems too innocent to comprehend the enormity of what happened that day. I have so much respect for the widows of 9/11, the people who fought bravely, the people who died in fear, the people who worked tirelessly in the clean up...the list goes on. How can you not be in awe of their perseverance and determination?
I think 9/11 has affected all of us who remember it forever. I can't walk in an airport without thinking about the innocent people who boarded flights that day. Sitting on the plane, taking off, listening to the flight attendants remind us that no lines can be formed in the front of the aircraft...it's all because of that one day, that one event that so drastically altered our history.
I think that we all have to remember that everyone grieves in a different way. Some of us want to watch the stories, read the news, look at pictures, attend memorials. Others want to feel happily patriotic and do something American, but not 9/11-ish. I don't think there is a right or wrong way to commemorate the day. We each know in our hearts what that day meant to us personally and as a nation. We each pray or send thoughts to the people who suffered the most that day. And above all, we each remember.
Where were you? What were you doing? I was at my mom's house, getting ready for morning classes at Midland College. I had the t.v. on to the Today Show and couldn't figure out what to do with my hair. Without warning, the broadcast changed from a typical report to one of confusion, fear, and utter disbelief. I, like I'm sure all of you, was glued to the t.v. I couldn't stop watching. Even though the images and confusion were astounding and unfathomable, it was such an unexpected event that I feared looking away. I feared missing more or looking away at the wrong time and not hearing or seeing something that would allow it all to make sense. I felt frozen. I didn't know what to do, where to go, what to say. I remember talking to my mom (she was at work), although I don't recall the details of our conversation. I know my thoughts went to Matt and my dear friend Kat who were both at Texas Tech, and I wondered if they were in class or if they had seen the news. I never made it to class that day. I sat on the bed, curled in a ball, and could not stop watching the horror unfold.
Mine isn't a unique story or even that interesting. I'm sure many of you reading this did the exact same thing. However, each of us remembers and knows the intial shock and pain we felt, and the utter sadness. This year I'm thinking of the attacks in a way I haven't before: how do I explain this to Lyla? She is so receptive and observant now, and I know every year at this time she'll be exposed to the stories, the images, the sadness. What do the families who have "9/11 babies" say to their now 10 or 11 year old children? How have they explained the national mourning each year? Heck, even my little cousin, who is incredibly intelligent and mature, seems too innocent to comprehend the enormity of what happened that day. I have so much respect for the widows of 9/11, the people who fought bravely, the people who died in fear, the people who worked tirelessly in the clean up...the list goes on. How can you not be in awe of their perseverance and determination?
I think 9/11 has affected all of us who remember it forever. I can't walk in an airport without thinking about the innocent people who boarded flights that day. Sitting on the plane, taking off, listening to the flight attendants remind us that no lines can be formed in the front of the aircraft...it's all because of that one day, that one event that so drastically altered our history.
I think that we all have to remember that everyone grieves in a different way. Some of us want to watch the stories, read the news, look at pictures, attend memorials. Others want to feel happily patriotic and do something American, but not 9/11-ish. I don't think there is a right or wrong way to commemorate the day. We each know in our hearts what that day meant to us personally and as a nation. We each pray or send thoughts to the people who suffered the most that day. And above all, we each remember.
Comments
Post a Comment