Rather than create a new entry today, I would like to share a post I wrote exactly one year after 9/11 occurred.
To me, it more fully explains what was lost and found that day. It seems more focused in its intent and spirit; certainly more so than what I could write today.
The past 10 years have filtered through my soul like the cascading flow of a waterfall. What's below the tumult and chaos of the surface remains unchanged and steadfast. Reposting this essay on my thoughts that anniversary allows me to peek below to the experiences that made me who I am today.
I repost without changes, everything intact.
God grant that I can say the right words here…
I’ve been debating this for weeks now. Whether to mark this day with my own words or not. Every time I caught a glimpse of today’s date I would get a little uneasy in my seat, uncomfortable in my own body. Maybe it was that I myself had forgotten. Maybe, it was the uncertainty that still laid hold of my mind at times.
It’s a somber day. It’s a day of quiet reflection, as it should be for all Americans, for the whole world. I can never forget how naked I felt that day, even in the midst of the strongest mountains of the Rockies, I felt strangely exposed. The connections that held me to each person that I knew were shattered; at once, I felt alone.
I couldn’t convince myself to drive down the canyon after work. I couldn’t pull myself away from the news. My soul was numb; my hands felt like they weren’t my own. I walked outside to the south side of the resort. Looking up at the great mountains beside me, I
said a silent prayer for those who were lost. I called my mother and heard her trembling voice as she kept saying “no, it’s not possible”. My mother realized it, the world had changed.
I had to listen to my sister cry as I told her to turn the TV on. I should have let her sleep. I wanted her to be a world away from me, in a different time where she wouldn’t have to see the flames and the blood. But she too, lived in this world on the morning of
September 11th, 2001.
I could hear Allie in the background, she was up, and she was playing. My niece had no idea how the world was changing. All she knew was she was safe; she had her mother there beside her to take care of her. She was feeling what I wish I could. I believe now, upon silent recollection, that it was my young niece that pulled me away from that scene. She was the thing that could bring me back to the world I knew.
And I called my brother Adam, whose voice had always been one of reason and calming for me in my life. As expected, nothing had changed there, he could still comfort me but I could sense a strange transition in his demeanor. I asked how his class was handling the day, he said they were scared, confused, angry, all of the emotions which we were all feeling in the aftermath of the attack on our country.
Slowly, I felt the connections to my family and friends come back to me, I felt a little more whole. Maybe it was hearing their voices that brought harmony to my soul. And as I sit here, one full year later, I am thankful that I feel not only like myself again, but more of a man than I was before that day. I was given the chance to grow
up in the world, not to let it shape me but to refine; I take the greatest elements of what life is and incorporate them. I see how the world has done just that, I see the attitudes of a million
Americans standing in solidarity, proclaiming with one voice, “we will never forget”
And may God grant that we never will, one way or another.