This week marks the twentieth anniversary of 9/11. That’s all we have to say…two numbers…and we know what it means and how it felt. Those of us who are old enough to remember…and those of us who were directly impacted no matter the age…we remember and we feel the enormity of that experience. The world felt it. You could tell. Everything seemed to stop. Like this great big pause. The unfathomable-ness of it.
It’s hard to believe it has been twenty years. There is an entire generation that has no direct experience of that day. Kind of like me and the Vietnam War. I had an idea but not the full experience of it. I was too young. I guess every generation has its gut punch. That’s becoming more obvious to me. The corollary is that the longer you live, the more punches you get. Sigh.
I was watching a limited series this week about 9/11. Twenty years later there is a lot of context available that was missing from my original experience. Historical perspective I guess you’d say. It changes the way I see the whole event…it widens my view. But you know what hasn’t changed? The sadness I feel about that day. The sadness I feel about the pain, anguish and loss. I am carrying sadness…still. Tears rolled down my face as I watched the towers hit and people jump and run and cry out.
I’ve decided this sadness is useful. It reminds me that I am part of a bigger whole. It reminds me that I am connected at a soul level to every other soul. That I can feel the other as if we are one. For this I am grateful and humbled…even in my sadness.
With much love
Paula
