September 11th

September 11th still hurts me in a way that I don't even express to people. But like all grieving processes, it changes slowly....in ways you could not predict or even prepare for.  I HATE knowing that all of those people suffered in that scary way while we watched helplessly on TV.  I hate knowing that my godfather, Mike, lost his niece (she worked in one of the towers) and that our old friend, Megan, lost her roommate (she was one of the flight attendants). But mostly I hate to hear and see the terror in the footage they show and play again and again.  Like most of our tragedies and deaths, we must remember and suffer each day without that person, but we don't have it replayed on TV over and over on that day.  When I was a child, I used to keep and hide those "Have You Seen Me?" cards with missing kids on them under my bed and in my drawers because I felt that either A: I was really going to recognize one someday, or B: if I just threw it away, then that parent or family would have no one suffering with them so I suffered as much as I could with them by keeping them.  

Well, this year, I decided not to watch the TV on this unfortunate day.  Not because it no longer deserves my attention or prayers, and not because I am pretending that is it no longer there.  I tried not to watch the TV because I wanted to go through another, different grieving step...and see how it felt.  Knowing that all of those people who survived have plugged ahead and are still rebuilding their lives makes me feel prouder today than sad.  So,no TV for me today.  Still plenty of silent prayers going up.  But no TV.  It is not just the firefighters who are the heroes.  It is each and every one of them!