My wife and I put up the flag this morning. Confession: my wife put up the flag while I watched her doing it. It’s not uncommon at our house for my wife to remember the truly important things – she’s awesome that way. As she’s leaving out the door for work she tells me “don’t forget to talk with Ella about what today means. Make sure to connect with her.”
And so here I am trying to gauge what exactly 911 means to me. I remember the day was impossibly clear – similar to today. I remember waking up and realizing something awful had happened. I remember my wife and I huddled around our TV, confused images, frightened New Yorkers, brave police and firefighters, disbelief, the blurry edges of anger as family members search for loved ones. It was surreal – we couldn’t fathom what had happened or why. Fast forward 13 years and I still have similar feelings.
I hear Ella’s alarm and as I’m writing this I realize that like you, I just have to do the best I can to make sense out of the senseless and to remember the beautiful and brave amongst the brutality and violence.
The one thing I cannot and will not do is to forget.