Rumblings. . .
I have had a lot going through my mind the last couple of days, especially with the five year anniversary of September 11. At first I had chosen to not write about my feelings and concerns as we approached this day that is one of the most memorable man-made catastrophes of my lifetime. In many ways I am tired by the falsity of the day of remembrances with all of the stock phrases of sympathy (i.e. we will never forget, the numerous times patriot and hero is thrown around, etc). I am tired of seeing the images of the towers being destroyed (although this year that has not been a regular occurence). I am tired of the families haggling over the remains of ground zero. I am tired of the numerous fights over how the memorial and rebuilding of the site (yes I am very much aware of the many meetings, drawings, time, etc. that went into finally finding a viable option). At every turn on the television, I saw a different scene of remembrance. Often, I quickly turned the station.
I may sound unsympathetic to the pain of these families, or maybe unpatriotic some would say, but the story doesn't stop here. It was finally in the moment that I stopped to think about the terror that those people faced as they lay trapped in buildings, or huddled in despair on planes destined for destruction. Until I imagined the complete helplessness that family members must have felt during those last phone calls. Until I remembered these things and got beyond the pomp and circumstance of the event did my true empathy emerge. I was not unaware of the loss and suffering, but pertubed by the circus that it has become. I always come back to the people. I return to the lives lost and to the families forever changed and there is where I find my understanding of loss. I argued with my ex-boyfriend about all of this and I encouraged him to look beyond all the politicalness of 9/11 and instead focus on the universal language of loss that this day represents.
9/11 is not unique in terms of loss; it does not hold the patent on feelings of trauma and terror. My mind races to understand, to empathize, to contemplate the many catastrophes that make up the 20th and 21st centuries, such as the ethnic cleansing in Sudan and Rwanda, the murder of civilians and soldiers in Iraq, the devestation of Hurricane Katrina. I think about all of that and my heart falters in response, my head hangs in sorrow, and my voice emerges wrapped in pain. . .
I may sound unsympathetic to the pain of these families, or maybe unpatriotic some would say, but the story doesn't stop here. It was finally in the moment that I stopped to think about the terror that those people faced as they lay trapped in buildings, or huddled in despair on planes destined for destruction. Until I imagined the complete helplessness that family members must have felt during those last phone calls. Until I remembered these things and got beyond the pomp and circumstance of the event did my true empathy emerge. I was not unaware of the loss and suffering, but pertubed by the circus that it has become. I always come back to the people. I return to the lives lost and to the families forever changed and there is where I find my understanding of loss. I argued with my ex-boyfriend about all of this and I encouraged him to look beyond all the politicalness of 9/11 and instead focus on the universal language of loss that this day represents.
9/11 is not unique in terms of loss; it does not hold the patent on feelings of trauma and terror. My mind races to understand, to empathize, to contemplate the many catastrophes that make up the 20th and 21st centuries, such as the ethnic cleansing in Sudan and Rwanda, the murder of civilians and soldiers in Iraq, the devestation of Hurricane Katrina. I think about all of that and my heart falters in response, my head hangs in sorrow, and my voice emerges wrapped in pain. . .
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