I feel like this post should come with a disclaimer. These are not the thoughts that I usually put on my blog, but this is, in all reality just my journal. It is where I record everyday events, family activities, and my thoughts. Today is for my thoughts. It has been a tough week. Television has been a constant reminder that the 10th Anniversary of September 11, 2001 is here. Stories of survival, stories of loss, and memories shared by those who were there and witnessed it firsthand are being reported on all newscast. They are reliving the day. You cannot help but relive the day with them.
I always think of the song that was written shortly after this horrible tragedy...
"Where were you when the world stopped turning that September Day?
Were you teaching a class full of innocent children?"
That is where I was. I was sitting in a class full of innocent children. No they really were not children, but that day they became children again. Until that day their biggest problem was who they were going to sit with at lunch, or maybe who their current boyfriend was talking to between classes. This day shook their core. It pulled the rug out from under them. I remember telling them what was happening and they could not grasp it. Nothing like this had occurred in our lifetime and I am not sure they understood what it all meant or how it would affect the history of the US. They were scared but possibly not so much as the teaching staff that was supposed to remain calm and not allow chaos to take over a building for the remainder of the day. How could I pull that off when I could not wrap my mind around what had just happened? I could not focus. I could not think of it in any way at all but the human side of this tragedy. How could these families deal with the enormous loss. These people did not go off to war and leave loved ones behind who feared for their safety each day. These people got up, got dressed, and left for work. This was a day like every other. They would be home for dinner. But this day was different and no one could have predicted such a fateful event happening in our country and unfolding right in front of our eyes. That is the miracle of live television. The coverage was too human, too real. Real people leaping from windows 45 stories above the ground to avoid the fires that were engulfing two buildings.
All day and for many days thereafter I thought about how devastating it must be to know that your husband, wife, son, or daughter was trapped in a building that would collapse into a pile of burning rubble. How hard it must be to know that there was not chance of survival. How hard it must be to know they were gone but to have no tangible proof of your loss. So many unanswered questions in their minds. What was it like for them? What were their last moments like? Did they know, did they pray, did they suffer? How do these families face all of these questions? It was a different kind of death and one that will never have answers. That is where my mind was for weeks after September 11th. My heart hurt for the loved ones of 2752 people. How on earth could they cope with something like this.
On Oct. 18, 2002, just 13 months later, I found out what it was like. No, it was not the World Trade Center catastrophe but it was a horrific training accident that killed my son. And it was then I knew. I knew what it was like to loose a loved one. What it was like to start the day expecting it to end like all others. I had an uneasy feeling that day. An unexplained irritation with everything. I came home in the pouring rain expecting to head out to a football game and knowing I had little time to locate umbrellas and rain gear. It was a big game. Naaman was playing Garland. It was Drew's senior year and this would be the end of Friday night football for us. But there would be no game that night. We would be together grieving the loss of our son. Trying together to grasp the fact that his plane had exploded in midair and there was no tangible evidence except for a flight helmet found floating amidst the rubble in the Pacific Ocean. There was no body to be recovered but we were told our son was gone. I knew then. I knew what it was like to wonder. What it was like to wonder what his last moments were like. Did he know what was happening, did he suffer, did he pray?
We had a memorial service.
It was something to hold on to. Matt was not in the casket. I wanted to bury Matt's helmet. I followed all the proper Navy channels in order to receive the helmet I was told they found. I asked for it. I was told by the Navy in these exact words "it was destroyed in a way that would be respectful to the pilot". The respectful thing to do in my opinion would be to give it to his family. Give them some tangible piece of that awful day. But the Navy had it's protocol so we never saw his helmet.
In that box were mementos, his favorite flip flops, letters from the family and small tokens from special friends......but not Matt.
I am sad this week. It is difficult. Life has moved on for them just as my life has moved on. Ten years ago I did not know how they dealt with it. Sadly enough, now I do.
When you loose a parent, you loose your past....
When you loose a child you loose your future.
For all the survivors and families of September 11, may God hold your heart in His hands.
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