I cried this morning.
Ten years ago, like most everyone else, I was a sympathetic observer. I felt bad for the bereaved but I didn’t understand their anguish. The overwhelming emotion on that day was anger; anger at the people who did this, anger at those who celebrated an act of murder. Had I been ten years younger I might have enlisted, such was the power of that rage, there was a strong compulsion to DO SOMETHING.
Today I feel nothing but sadness.
I didn’t understand loss on that day. In the years that have passed I have leaned.
As I cry this morning the tears are not just for those lost, they are for those still living with the pain. The tears are not just for the individual stories that I related too in 2001, they are for me, and ultimately they are for you.
The local coverage signed off by listing the names and pictures of Massachusetts residents and natives who had perished. Each time I saw the name and picture of an individual who was in their twenties I sobbed.
I watch the families file in to the memorial and I understand. Ten years gone and the pain is still fresh. It doesn’t go away, but you learn to live with it. The survivors move on, not because they forget, indeed quite the opposite. They move on to remember, if not us, then who? If we don’t go on and strive for whatever it is we are to strive for, then your legacy and your memory would die with our sorrow and anguish.
Look down on us; watch over us, I hope I’m making you proud.