Friday Memorial: 9/11

 

If you’ve been reading here very long, you know that 9/11 is an important day to me. It was the first “marking” event of my adult life, and that has led to a heart- need to remember this day every single year.

                I wonder sometimes why it matters to me so much. I did not personally know anyone who died or was injured that day. I don’t live anywhere near the crash sites. I have concluded that it matters to me so much because there was so much I did not comprehend on that day 25 years ago.

                I worked at IWU back then, and once a month, on Tuesday mornings, we had division meetings. They were breakfast meetings for fellowship and information, and that day, the meeting took place in a conference room in the gym. I remember that one of the Admissions guys came in and told us the World Trade Center had been hit by planes, and I had no idea what he was talking about. I didn’t even know what or where the World Trade Center was and could not comprehend the magnitude of his news.

                Way back then we didn’t have social media, and we didn’t have a news tab on our browser. Getting information quickly felt a little bit impossible. Somehow, the office next to ours acquired a tiny TV with rabbit ears and set it up in their office space. I would sneak over throughout the day to try to learn the latest, but all the news felt disjointed and confusing.

                My parents were on vacation (on Mackinac Island) and didn’t have cell phones, so I couldn’t reach them to ask questions or tell them how scared I was about this strange news I couldn’t understand. My on-again-off-again boyfriend was out of town for work. My roommate was AT work (overnight). I was alone and terrified.

                So I think that watching the documentaries in the following years helped me fill in the blanks for what I could not understand in 2001. And as I began to fill in the blanks, I began to hear the stories. Stories of real people. Ordinary people.

                Somewhere along the way, I made a promise in my heart that I would sit with the stories. Every year. I can’t do anything to change the outcome of those stories. But I can be a person who sits with them and hears them.

                And so I do. Every year on 9/11, I work from home, and from the moment I wake up until the moment I go to bed, I watch the documentaries. I listen to the stories. (Often they are the same ones every year, but I still sit with them.)

                Almost two years ago, during our anniversary trip, Ryan and I visited the 9/11 memorial in Shanksville. I walked beside the wall of names, touched every panel, and read the names out loud.

                I hope to one day visit all the memorials.

                But today I will simply remember. I will sit with the stories. I will hear the words and look at the faces and probably cry over the enormity of it all.