Creative Writing Challenge #9 - Did 9/11 Change You?

I'm going to cheat a bit on this one and add a blog I wrote a year ago on the anniversary. For one, I hate that the media will drag us all through those dark hours over and over and over as if the grief of the aftermath of that day weren't enough or none of us can remember and need to see it all again in order to recall it. I so wish they'd find more positive ways to honor those who died and those who must live on. And too, I think the question is a bit odd. How could we NOT all be changed by that day?

Anyway, here's what I felt a year ago and still feel today and will likely feel for the rest of my life...

I'm always amazed at how we remember life altering events. On this date eight years ago, I spent the entire day in shock at the horror shows taking place in New York, Pennsylvania, and DC. Much of the day has been long forgotten - healed over with the scab of time.

And yet, there are certain things that still do stand out. The sound of Marc's voice in the hall that morning. The looks on the faces of my co-workers as we all stood around the TV trying not to cry. The one light in my entire commute that was always such a pain in the ass but on this day, thanks to an unknown man in an SUV who would most certainly have not obeyed the yield sign on any other day, was just another light to negotiate on the way to the safety and security of home and family.

How long did we all sit huddled around our TVs in the days that followed? I remember thinking the media would never let the dead rest - much as it was with Kennedy, Princess Diana, Pope John Paul - this was a boon to business for the companies that provide us news and important information. Eventually it seemed they were looking pretty hard for anything to make us watch, remember, cry.

At the one-year anniversary I sat in the audience with Mike as the new fire house in Allen was dedicated. It was tough. All around me were firemen and their families. The signal "fire-fighter down" is sounded on the engine's bell when a fireman is buried. At the sound of the first sharp clang the tears began to fall and we collectively agreed to mourn freely for those lost lives.

As I write the skies have opened up and our much-needed rain is pouring down. All the tears that have fallen in the years since that horrendous day are coming back to earth to heal and nourish and bring new life.

Rest in peace. We remember.