Ask anyone over the age of 10 where they were eight years ago today and they will be able to tell you.
They’ll tell you about how beautifully blue the skies were that day. Not even a single cloud interrupted the bright sunshine. A perfect Indian summer day.
They’ll tell you about the news report they heard. There was an airplane, and it crashed into the World Trade Center. Of course they thought that it was an accident - until the second plane hit. Fears that we were under attack were confirmed when the third plane hit the Pentagon.
They’ll tell you how they watched in horror as both towers crumbled to ash and dust. At the same time, a brave flight crew and many passengers of a fourth plane fought to prevent more devastation, even as they knew that their own lives would soon be over.
Maybe they’ll tell you about the great cloud of black smoke that rose from the burning buildings, or about the horrible, wrenching scenes of people covered in jet fuel jumping to their deaths. It was so painful to watch that the TV stations stopped showing them soon after. You may see images of the towers on fire 1,000,000 times, but you won’t see those haunting images ever again. For me, it doesn’t matter. I’ll never be able to forget them. Seeing them once was too many times.
Maybe they'll remember the paper, falling from the sky like confetti. But this was no party.
Perhaps they’ll remember all the shoes abandoned in the streets as people ran to get away from the heavy, falling, choking ash full of buildings and papers and people.
These were people who woke up, just like any other day, and went to work. They probably had meetings to attend, dry cleaning to pick up, and back-to-school nights to visit. Many of them probably left their dishes in the sink that morning, their shoes in the hall, and rejected work clothes on the bed, intending to clean them up later. How many of them never got to see their wives / husbands / children / parents / lovers / pets ever again?
Gone in a day, gone in a heartbeat, gone in a single hate-fueled moment.
In honor of the people who never got a chance to say goodbye to the ones they loved, or steal a last sweet, sticky kiss from their child, let’s all commit to making certain that the people we love most always know it.
Forget about the milk your husband neglected to pick up after work. Tell him you’d marry him all over again.
Don’t worry about the disappointment that your child has caused you. Tell her you’re glad that you’re the one who was chosen to be her mom.
Let go of the hurt toward your parents. Tell them you’re proud to be their child.
If nothing else, 9/11 taught us that we never know what our lives will bring or how many days we have remaining. Our last day on earth might start out with a beautiful blue sky and yet not give us a single moment to say everything we want to say.
Say it now.
*a similar version of this essay was published previously by The Reporter.
Bruce Springsteen - "You're Missing" (from The Rising)
Comments
Your perspective is very much appreciated... precious is the life we sometimes take for granted. rAted!
What do we say if we know it's our last day ever? Obviously, we don't obsess about socks that don't get put away or dishes that don't get washed. Concentrate on the big stuff.
I will hug my boyfriend right now and tell him how much I love him & how much I need him in my life.
Thank you for posting! It gave watery eyes!
thanks
I remember when you first showed me a version of this piece. It brought tears to my eyes then, and it did so again today.
On 9/11 my brother worked in a building a block away from the towers. AS we later learned, he saw the second plane hit. His face was among those we all saw on TV, walking uptown, his mouth and nose covered by an old T-shirt to protect them from the debris in the air. And I was sitting at home, scanning the faces on TV, waiting for hours for his phone call late that night, "I'm safe."
It is a gift how you have brought a beautiful lesson out of that horrible day.
When I clicked on your post I realized that somehow I had lost you as one of my favorites. I went through a few months where my favorites list kept dropping a few folks. I guess I didn't really figure out what I had lost and now I wonder how much of your writing I have been missing. Be back soon!
and I'm glad that I get to call you friend :)
On the ay of infamy I happened to visit good friends growing wine in French Languedoc. As my host was filling up the tank for a 100 miles drive the next morning to an early departure from Toulouse scared neighbours apprised us thata surprising attack destroyed the World Trade Center and warned me not to return home.
We rushed to the house and saw the second tower crumble. Replay reminded me about dramatic pictures that tllustrated destruction of Babel's tower for catechisme class.
6 hours time difference delayed dinner. We prayed on on empty stomach that President Bush may announce reasonable reaction to unprecedented disaster rather than defiantly shoot for the moon. 8 years many thousands of wasted lives and untold $ billios wasted I posted genesis 11/1-9 commenting on "Where the Towers Stood, Delays and Disagreements Mount" in Fridays Washington Post.
Catholics, Jews,Mmuslim and Protestants purport to share Genesis as far as I know. We need a common language to peacefully worku differences confrontation can only compound. Lisa is leading fans into the right direction. The more the merrier!