Once again, I must be forced to remember and grieve ...
Nine years ago tomorrow, the world as we knew it was forever changed when terrorists hijacked planes, used them as bombs, and killed over 3,000 poeple.
One of those people was my very best friend. She worked at the towers; she died when the towers fell. Her body was found in the rubble weeks later. She was only in her thirties when she died.
I still miss her, especially now. This time is very painful for me.
I cannot watch the news as a result. Too many bad things going on.
It is because of the attacks that my husband went to war. Thank God he came back, but he came back a changed man. He isn't as outgoing as he was prior to his military service; he still laughs and plays with the children, but I still see the haunted look in his eyes, and he doesn't like to talk about what he might have seen when he was serving our country in Afghanistan.
My oldest child, Jubaki, was only a baby when the attacks happened, but now he knows about it. And I have told our other children about the attacks too; we don't hold anything back from our kids. The younger ones really don't understand why their parents are so reserved when we remember, but I hope they will one day.
I think of Stephanie and of those others who perished. I wonder what their families must be enduring. I wonder if anyone really remembers September 11, 2001. I know I do. I was watching the Today Show, as I do every morning, when breaking news of a building burning in New York City broke into regular programming. What we saw next will be forever be etched in our subconscious; we were held transfixed as the events unfolded in front of us, on our television screens.
Then the towers fell.
All I can remember is crying into my husband's arms as I wondered about the fate of Stephanie, my friend who was instrumental into bringing me to America from Kenya. Then I received the terrible news that her body had been found; my life hasn't been the same since.
I still find it hard trying to forgive those behind the attacks. I still suffer flashbacks and find it hard to sleep most nights.
I have done an awful lot of writing. I have scads of notebooks lying around, full of my journalings or thoughts. I still continue to write, as a way of dealing with the grief that I once again feel deep in my bones.
I also find myself calling Stephanie's parents in New York and trying to comfort them, even when my own heart is breaking.
I just wonder if we have truly learned anything from that day. Somehow I doubt it. We have gone back to that mentality, that mentality that says: "It won't happen again. It can't happen again". I have news for them: oh, yes it can. And it will happen again unless we, as Americans, take precautionary steps to protect our citizens, and we become united once again as a nation instead of fighting with one another and pinning blame on them.
We have gone to the memorial service at Grand Zero in the past. Not this year. Too busy with the children, and we can't afford it. So we will pause, reflect, and remember in the comfort of our living room and pray for America and those who died in the attacks.
God bless America! And America: bless God! May we never forget what happened nine years ago tomorrow! May it never happen again!
~M'Buti. :( *tears!*