An Unfortunate Anniversary
With September 1 upon us, the second anniversary of 9-11 is just ten short days away. It is hard to believe that it has been two years since that morning, when two planes crashed into the World Trade Center Towers, one into the Pentagon and one other into the countryside of Pennsylvania. I can remember getting ready for a day of research, listening to the local NPR station in Albany and hearing of the first plane and the confusion of whether or not it was a commercial airliner and how it happened. Moments later the second plane struck and I realized that I should probably turn on the television to see exactly what was happening.
I felt shocked, horrified and scared. Scared for the friends I have in NYC whose daily lives take them to the WTC area. It felt like someone had punched me in the stomach with such force that my insides might fall out. My fears were only made worse by the site of the Pentago crash and not knowing whether or not my cousin who works there was alive or dead. As the day went on, the pain only grew more intense. I spoke with a friend whose office is in the same neighborhood as the Towers, and he had the horror of seeing people jump to their deaths. Another friend happened to have been out of town and yet another was simply running late, otherwise she would have been in that section of town.
It was not until later that day that I knew my cousin had not been harmed. All of my loved ones were accounted for, but still the pain existed like a tumor in my gut. I read the stories of those whose loved ones whereabouts were a mystery and those who knew their mother or father or son had died. The pain visited upon these families I cannot imagine or fathom.
In that time, we have learned to avert our eyes from some of that tragedy and lives have gone on, albeit in a fractured way. But we must not ever forget the tragedy visited upon our country on this inglorious day.
On this September 11 I will do the same thing I did last year- have moments of reflection and prayers for those who were so brutally killed two years ago.
And I will do this for the rest of my life, because to fail to do so would be to forget the sacrificies made on that awful, awful day.
I felt shocked, horrified and scared. Scared for the friends I have in NYC whose daily lives take them to the WTC area. It felt like someone had punched me in the stomach with such force that my insides might fall out. My fears were only made worse by the site of the Pentago crash and not knowing whether or not my cousin who works there was alive or dead. As the day went on, the pain only grew more intense. I spoke with a friend whose office is in the same neighborhood as the Towers, and he had the horror of seeing people jump to their deaths. Another friend happened to have been out of town and yet another was simply running late, otherwise she would have been in that section of town.
It was not until later that day that I knew my cousin had not been harmed. All of my loved ones were accounted for, but still the pain existed like a tumor in my gut. I read the stories of those whose loved ones whereabouts were a mystery and those who knew their mother or father or son had died. The pain visited upon these families I cannot imagine or fathom.
In that time, we have learned to avert our eyes from some of that tragedy and lives have gone on, albeit in a fractured way. But we must not ever forget the tragedy visited upon our country on this inglorious day.
On this September 11 I will do the same thing I did last year- have moments of reflection and prayers for those who were so brutally killed two years ago.
And I will do this for the rest of my life, because to fail to do so would be to forget the sacrificies made on that awful, awful day.
posted by Anonymous at 4:07 PM
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