Ten years ago. A lifetime ago. Everything changed that day.
I was in bed; ill. Dying, actually. My son was due to be discharged from the Navy in a couple of weeks and he was planning his wedding. My focus was on that day and the joy it would give me. He rushed into my room and turned on the TV. I watched the second plane hit. The reality did not hit for quite a few very slow seconds. I so wanted it to be a movie. From that point I was glued to the TV. I watched the plane hit over and over again. Then I watched the towers fall. All day. I could not avert my eyes. Then the Pentagon. Someone else had to physically turn off the TV as I just could not turn away, and I could not breathe. The tears flowing down my cheeks came straight from my heart. I have never hurt like that. I hope I never feel that pain again.
Now I just feel very sad. Sad for the losses of life, and the loss of innocence.
I did not die, obviously. My son was discharged as planned, and his wedding was one of great happiness. Perhaps partly because of the great grief a few weeks earlier. Bomb dogs patrol the ferry lines and often machine gun toting rubber boats escort us across Puget Sound. Security at the airport no longer allows for wonderful reunions at the gates.
The wars have brought way too many new members into my amputee family.
Amongst all of the saddness flies a red white and blue banner. One I have always treated with the greatest respect. It was as it was supposed to be. The way I was raised and trained.
Now I get it.
Being a first responder myself, I winced at each announcement of another loss of a sister or brother in the ranks. In 24 years with the Sheriff's department I have always gone into service on the police radio with a, "Good morning, Frank Three in service!". Not that morning.
ReplyDeleteLater that day an Army sergeant called my courthouse to ask if I was OK. Someone I did not know and would never meet.
I get it now too. I never imagined how large my "family" really was.