It's been 20 years since the towers fell, and the weight and sorrow and infinite sadness of that day are still living right under the surface of my being. Geo and I were at the shore, watching the events play out in horrifying, graphic detail on the tiny television screen in our hotel room. I suppose these feelings will never leave me. Yes, I move forward, living life as fully as possible, loving family and friends to the best of my ability.
And yet.
And yet.
And yet.
All it takes is an image date stamped 9/11/01 to send me back.
I felt restless today for some reason. I'm not good at sitting still, especially on a glorious day. I stood still much too much over COVID season. I decided to take a walk through my favorite cemetery. Cemeteries are the best places to walk. It's quiet enough to let your mind wander, there are hills (because Pittsburgh), and this one in particular has interesting tokens left on headstones of departed loved ones.
Today there was a silent 9/11 walk through the gravestones. The panels depicted the events of the day, chronologically, beginning with the 7:59am departure of Flight 11 from Boston through the collapse of the North Tower. The images scattered throughout were many iconic photos from that day: the North Tower ablaze; the second plane just before impact on the South Tower; both towers on fire as seen from across the river; the South Tower falling; the fallen chaplain being carried out of the wreckage by firefighters; the jarring image of a lone, vertical man plummeting to his death.
All of these photos send me directly back 20 years to the rawness I felt then. That last one though. When I look at it, I hear the sickening thud of human flesh hitting pavement and see the horrified cringe of the fire chief's face from the 9/11 documentary released months later. To choose to leap to one's death rather than risk being crushed by a toppling tower. Wow. I don't know, man. I can't even imagine having to make that choice.
With the personally devastating year my family and I have had, not to mention perpetual COVID, it somehow seems fitting that it is also the 20th anniversary of the defining moment in our country's modern history. Sure. Why not. Let's heap it on. Maybe if we get all the bullshit out, we can finally have nice things in 2022. Even I'm not buying that, and I'm generally a positive person. LOL
I would love to believe we, as a nation, we can come together for the good of the country again. That we can be kinder to one another, be respectful towards each other, embrace our diversity, believe in science, care for one another enough to wear a fucking piece of cloth on our faces without equating it to GD fucking Nazi Germany, stay out of women's wombs. But alas, I cannot. Not today. Today I feel like we pissed it all away.
I would love to end this missive on a somewhat optimistic note. So here goes.
We all woke up today, right? To feel the sun's warmth on our face, or hear the rain on the roof, or to sniff the aromas of the oncoming fall. I'm looking at you, pumpkin spice.
We all have survived our worst days, 100 percent.
We all get another chance to make a difference, however slight, in the lives of others. Be it a phone call, a text, or a rando encounter in the wild.
We all get a chance to hug someone, maybe it's your Mom, or your sister, or your significant other, or a dog, or your neighbor's adorable cherub who runs up to you to show you their new toy. Hugging is healing. It's a science fact. It IS! No lie.
And finally, never pass up the opportunity to pee, eat the damn dessert FFS, and sometimes wine DOES fix everything. Or at least it may help you laugh so hard you almost tinkle, at which point I refer you to item #1 of this paragraph.
