13 years
I can remember it so clearly and even today when I see those
images of planes being hijacked and used as weapons of mass destruction I feel
so very sad and lost. Our leaders try to
reassure us sounding calm and resolved; but there are no words that can console
us. This year I watched a program on September 10,
about the events that led up to 9/11/01 on the NGC. The program is very interesting, filled with new
insights and new stories of some of those lost on that terrible day.
Around 3000 people died from the events of 9-11 and over
3000 children lost a parent that day. The
total number of those who were directly affected as family members, friends, neighbors,
mentors or co-worker is far greater still.
The tragedy on 9-11 touched our entire nation, and our nation mourned
with those loved ones, and we remember their loss every anniversary. This was not some natural disaster; this was
a deliberate act of hate that changed our nation forever.
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This is a photo that I took at the 9-11 Pentagon Memorial in
DC.
My feelings of loss for 9-11 are similar to my feelings of
loss toward my addict son. A numb feeling
that comes from a lack of understanding even though I know what happened. I can either harbor hate for what has happened
or I can move past it, but either way I can never forget the tragedy. As we try to adjust and we strive to be
vigilant to protect ourselves and the innocent, we must move on.
As I write this blog on the 13th Anniversary of
9-11 my son sits in a triage room at a detox center in a mental health facility
in hopes of being admitted. I want to
feel happy about the wonderful news of today, but I am afraid. I am afraid to be happy for him or myself. I am afraid to say “Hallelujah--- he has found
his way to fight this horrible disease”.
But deep down inside I am very
relieved, maybe not happy, but my hope has grown like the Grinch’s heart did on
Christmas Day.
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