I don’t know if I’ve written about this before – I may have – but meh – it’s another year. (How’s THAT for a run-on sentence?)
I think back 13 years to September 11. I was heavily pregnant – my son would be born 16 days later. I was already on maternity leave and watching the news in the morning, having gotten up with my older kids.
Everyone else was sleeping.
I watched as the plane hit the first tower. I called my mother, who then said it was a hoax. I woke my husband.
I watched the second plane hit the next tower.
And while I was horrified by what I saw – I had no understanding of what I was really seeing.
All the people who were dying? They left someone behind.
I had no understanding of what that meant. My parents were both alive. My husband’s mom was still alive and I wasn’t around when his Dad died. My husband was still alive.
I had never experienced loss. I was young, naive and it was all a theoretical exercise of “oh that’s awful”
And today, 13 years later, I get it.
I understand what it’s like for those left behind. I understand how devastating it is to have your life turned upside down in an instant.
Today, I remember.