The Journey

Today is the 8th anniversary of the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center.

8 years ago, I was in 5th grade, and I was sitting in biology when the loudspeaker came on and our principal asked us to pray.  (Catholic school.)  I didn't know what it was about, and within 10 minutes rumors were flying about a bus crash with several children dying, or the president dying, or some teacher dying, or something else.

A few hours later I found out what really happened.  I found out about the plane crashes.  We watched live coverage on what few televisions our classrooms had.  Then when I went home we watched more.  The radio and the television were doing 24/7 nonstop coverage, and as a child, I knew this was serious, but I was peeved that I could not listen to music or watch cartoons.

In the months that ensued, the country radio stations started playing all sorts of patriotic songs that singers made in a flash to profit off of the tragedies.  Ironic.

Many died that day, for reasons we now understand, and for some we still don't.  What happened 8 years ago is a testament to the fact that so long as you give a man a pointed stick, he will use it to kill his neighbor.

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CharlotteSometimes said:

Alright. So about, oh, what has it been now, 8 years!?

Okay, onto the real reason why I'm posting this. My dad and his late friend Ian had gone to New York for some training of the fire kind, and they had gone the week of 9/11. Now mind you, they were both training with the NYFD. Then the call came in, and they all rushed out, and my dad and Ian, being the people that they are, ran out with them. I was in 4/5th grade at the time, when the call came in that we should all watch the television. I didnt know what was going on at the time, and now that I look back, I see the seriousness of it.

Well, my dad and Ian were on their way to run inside, and Ian noticed something weird, so he ran in before my dad could, and then the building crashed down, my dad was standing there, dumbfounded, like his "feet were glued to the pavement" as he once put it. So Ian passed away, and my dad was left alone, sobbing. I never saw him cry before. He cries every 9/11 because he lost his best friend in this horrible horrible incident.

So now, I sit here, telling a little story about how you should be thankful that you have everyone. Because my uncle was lost.

I'm very sorry for your loss.  I think, by some degree of separation, we all lost someone that day.