Like many of you, I will never forget September 11, 2001.
It was my first year working as a school speech therapist and I was only about a week into the school year. We lived about an hour from the Washington, DC area and many of the families at the school worked for the military or the government. The news came in spurts throughout the day but it was only on my drive home that I started to learn the whole story. As I sat in my car, listening to news coverage on NPR, I tried to absorb the weight of the events of the day and it was incredibly overwhelming. I just leaked.
As the day waned, I alternately found myself drawn to and wanting to avoid the news. It was just too much and yet, I needed to take it all in.
Did I mention that it was also my birthday?
Although I do not know anyone personally who died during the events of the day, we had quite a few friends who were in the vicinity of the Pentagon and the Twin Towers on that day. Even though we did not feel a personal loss that day, we mourned with our country as we faced an unprecedented tragedy. That day, our entire country was in pain. That day, we all were forced to face grief at some level.
Each year since 2001, we have marked the day with remembrance.
Sometimes it's difficult to share your birthday with a day that is so incredibly painful to others.
There have been so many discussions this week about remembrance and grief. Sometimes I purposely tune them out but on Wednesday, there was an interesting story on NPR's All Things Considered about a woman who has put her grief to work.
Carie Lemack's mother was on one of the planes that hit the World Trade Center. As she shared her story, I couldn't help but hear my own voice echoed in her words:
"Everybody grieves differently...I want to grieve productively."
"It would be so nice just to go back for a day. That carefree-ness that's just not there anymore; I miss that part."
She referred to the community of other 9/11 families as "the family she never wanted to be a part of" and shared how sometimes she and these families share not just tears but laughter about "things that won't sound funny to anyone else but we can let steam off by laughing".
Grief is such a personal journey. Even when we face a collective loss, we grieve in different ways. I continue to find it fascinating to watch my own process in grief and realize how it is similar (or different) to the grief process of another individual. My grief is not the same as that of the 9/11 victim nor does it mimic that of every other cancer mom. My husband grieves in a different way than I do even though we lost the same beautiful child.
In another article I read recently, the author explained grief in this way:
"When someone dies, the plot threads unravel, the narrative shatters, and those of us who are part of the story 'go to pieces'. The work of grief is to gather the fragments and rewrite the narrative, this time minus a treasured presence."
It can take a long time to pick up those shattered fragments. Even when there are attempts to put the pieces back in their original places, there are cracks, and leaks, and nothing is ever quite the same. However, if we are patient and gentle, the pieces survive. They may be weakened and they will always be changed, but the longer they last, the more valuable they become.
That is why we remember. That is why we must never forget.
It was my first year working as a school speech therapist and I was only about a week into the school year. We lived about an hour from the Washington, DC area and many of the families at the school worked for the military or the government. The news came in spurts throughout the day but it was only on my drive home that I started to learn the whole story. As I sat in my car, listening to news coverage on NPR, I tried to absorb the weight of the events of the day and it was incredibly overwhelming. I just leaked.
As the day waned, I alternately found myself drawn to and wanting to avoid the news. It was just too much and yet, I needed to take it all in.
Did I mention that it was also my birthday?
Although I do not know anyone personally who died during the events of the day, we had quite a few friends who were in the vicinity of the Pentagon and the Twin Towers on that day. Even though we did not feel a personal loss that day, we mourned with our country as we faced an unprecedented tragedy. That day, our entire country was in pain. That day, we all were forced to face grief at some level.
Each year since 2001, we have marked the day with remembrance.
Sometimes it's difficult to share your birthday with a day that is so incredibly painful to others.
There have been so many discussions this week about remembrance and grief. Sometimes I purposely tune them out but on Wednesday, there was an interesting story on NPR's All Things Considered about a woman who has put her grief to work.
Carie Lemack's mother was on one of the planes that hit the World Trade Center. As she shared her story, I couldn't help but hear my own voice echoed in her words:
"Everybody grieves differently...I want to grieve productively."
"It would be so nice just to go back for a day. That carefree-ness that's just not there anymore; I miss that part."
She referred to the community of other 9/11 families as "the family she never wanted to be a part of" and shared how sometimes she and these families share not just tears but laughter about "things that won't sound funny to anyone else but we can let steam off by laughing".
Grief is such a personal journey. Even when we face a collective loss, we grieve in different ways. I continue to find it fascinating to watch my own process in grief and realize how it is similar (or different) to the grief process of another individual. My grief is not the same as that of the 9/11 victim nor does it mimic that of every other cancer mom. My husband grieves in a different way than I do even though we lost the same beautiful child.
In another article I read recently, the author explained grief in this way:
"When someone dies, the plot threads unravel, the narrative shatters, and those of us who are part of the story 'go to pieces'. The work of grief is to gather the fragments and rewrite the narrative, this time minus a treasured presence."
It can take a long time to pick up those shattered fragments. Even when there are attempts to put the pieces back in their original places, there are cracks, and leaks, and nothing is ever quite the same. However, if we are patient and gentle, the pieces survive. They may be weakened and they will always be changed, but the longer they last, the more valuable they become.
That is why we remember. That is why we must never forget.
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