It did happen, and I can't, won't pretend that it didn't. As much as I hate this date, and the feelings that surface because of it, how I wish we could just skip over the eleventh and go straight to the twelfth, I also know that we must stop to remember.
Despite my misery, I still have to get up and go about my business of raising four beautiful, innocent children. Children who are growing up in a world where unconscionable evil exists in the memory of every teenager and adult they will encounter today. They cannot even imagine it, we all lived through it. Of course, they are my babies, and I want to love them and protect them, and I never ever want them to experience anything like it, ever, but I also want them to know. I just don't know how.
First Son will participate in some ceremony at school today, I don't know if it will even be mentioned at Curly's preschool, but I think not. Neither one of them were more than a "twinkle in their father's eye" on the morning of September 11, 2001. I am thankful for that, because I don't know how I would have managed as a Mom that day. I could barely keep myself together, I couldn't imagine what I'd have done if there were little faces looking up to me that day. In fact, when I think of September 11, and all of the heroes involved, I often think about the teachers and parents who managed to help the littlest victims, the children.
First Son went to school today wearing a plain blue t-shirt and an American Flag pin. I told him that today was an important day, a very important day to be American, and be proud of it. I told him that his teachers would be talking about it, that they would probably do a special project. He pressed me for more information, but I was at a loss. The best I could do was tell him that he will learn more about it as he gets older. I don't know what to say to a six year old. I don't want this day to pass as just another day. I want it to be important, but for once I just don't have the words.
September 11, 2001 claimed so many victims. In the Towers, the Pentagon and in a field in Pennsylvania, yes - those are the stories we hear over and over again, and they are so important. There are others. For one, there are the rescue workers who are now suffering and dying from respiratory diseases caused by the awful things they were exposed to and inhaling in the days and weeks following the attacks. There are the families who lost loved ones. There are the soldiers who went off to fight the ensuing War on Terror - the ones who died in the war and the ones who came back changed forever. There are the families of these brave soldiers - whose husbands and wives, sons and daughters, mothers and fathers are risking all to fight an unpopular war, because they believe in America. There are people like myself, who thankfully didn't know anyone at all who was lost in any of the attacks, yet are still so profoundly affected by all that we saw and heard.
I will go and turn on the TV this morning, because that is where I was in 2001, in front of my television watching my world change forever. I will listen as the names are read by the families carrying pictures and wearing buttons with the likenesses of their lost loved ones. I will cry. I will be angry. I will relive all of the events of that time in my head.
I will comb Curly's hair, and drive her to preschool, I'll stop at the market and pick something up for dinner, I will make grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch, and help first son with his homework. I will change diapers and I will make bottles. I will go about my life, do my job. I will carry my sorrow in my heart. I will also hug my children extra hard, kiss my husband a few more times, and thank God for the life he has blessed me with. I will ask for Grace and Wisdom to teach my children appropriately. I will remember.
God Bless America.
1 comment:
I have a tear in my eye!
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