It is 2:00 AM. A candle is lit, while my lavendar incense rests elegantly in a delicate vase nearby, releasing a pleasant, soothing, fragrance. Slowly, I sip my chamomile tea with milk, as I attempt to put my mind into a sense of calm. What dreams I will have, picturing fields of lavendar. The rays of the sun will show off all their glory, as I breathe in the sweet, heavenly smells of this exquisite, purple flower.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Sunday, September 12, 2010
A LOOK AT SEPTEMBER 11
Many of us can remember the day President Kennedy was assassinated. We know where we were when we heard the news. We can say the same about hearing the news of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy. There were also the unexpected deaths of Elvis and John Lennon. Each individual left some form of impact on us. We could tell other generations how it was like, being part of history.
We had no idea that the next chapter in history would involve the assassination of thousands, on Tuesday, September 11, 2001. The killings this time were not prominent figures of our society. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, sons and daughters died that day. They kissed and hugged their families good-bye that morning, expecting to return home that evening. Many were looking forward to the upcoming football season, while others were thinking about the open house that evening at a child’s school. There were the newly engaged, dreaming of wedding plans, and those finding out they were going to become a mom or dad, excited to become a parent for the first time, or maybe for the second or third time. The new baby would join the family of siblings, ages two and four.
There were others flying to get home, anxious to be back with their loved ones. Some were on business trips, preparing to make a presentation or be attending one. Cell phones were at work, callers telling those on the other line to have dinner ready, looking forward to a favorite casserole. Still others were in the military, doing what was necessary to keep our country the safe place that it has been since 1776.
In an instant, all of this was taken away from us. Instead of mourning one individual, there were those thousands of individuals to mourn. The wrath of one group of people changed innumerable lives. Mommy or Daddy would not be coming home; those season tickets for an NFL game would go unused. Weddings were not going to take place and becoming a parent within the year was no more. In its place were fear, grief, tears, questions and anger. Dissipated was the nuclear family, broken, unable to be replaced.
Living two thousand miles from this heinous act, I could provide prayers for many. However, to feel the terror those did on that day is not something I can empathize. I can express my condolences, but I cannot say, “I know how you feel.”
I was not covered with ashes, the results of destruction. I did not hear the sounds of panic, nor did I take in the odors they inhaled. When I shut my eyes, I do not see plumes of smoke, the mass running of thousands to nowhere, or people jumping from windows to their death. I did not have someone knock on my door to say my loved one didn’t make it, nor did I have to rush from one person to the next, photo in hand, to ask if someone had seen this important person in my life.
It has been nine years since the assassinations. Those who were in grade school are now in high school. Weddings have taken place and babies have been born. The void remains, however, of those lost that day. Survivors remember as if it happened yesterday.
Many more have lost their lives since then, giving up their freedom so we may keep ours. Loved ones continue to experience falling to their knees in agony, after hearing of another death. The sense of security no longer exists as it did before. The unknown lingers heavily on the minds of all people. There is a look of alarm in the surviving victims, never letting one’s guard down. Lives have been rebuilt, but not at the same endurance and strength as before. There is a determination to be the ones in control, but in the back of everyone’s mind is the thought to be careful, to be ready for anything.
I commend those who were directly affected on September 11, 2001. They have had to keep living, in spite of the torment experienced. Time goes on, with that second hand never slowing down on the clock. Seconds turn into minutes, minutes into hours, hours into days, days into months and months into years. No one can turn back time. It has been a long, continuous, journey, not over yet. My prayers and compassion will always be there, as they travel this arduous road.
We had no idea that the next chapter in history would involve the assassination of thousands, on Tuesday, September 11, 2001. The killings this time were not prominent figures of our society. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, sons and daughters died that day. They kissed and hugged their families good-bye that morning, expecting to return home that evening. Many were looking forward to the upcoming football season, while others were thinking about the open house that evening at a child’s school. There were the newly engaged, dreaming of wedding plans, and those finding out they were going to become a mom or dad, excited to become a parent for the first time, or maybe for the second or third time. The new baby would join the family of siblings, ages two and four.
There were others flying to get home, anxious to be back with their loved ones. Some were on business trips, preparing to make a presentation or be attending one. Cell phones were at work, callers telling those on the other line to have dinner ready, looking forward to a favorite casserole. Still others were in the military, doing what was necessary to keep our country the safe place that it has been since 1776.
In an instant, all of this was taken away from us. Instead of mourning one individual, there were those thousands of individuals to mourn. The wrath of one group of people changed innumerable lives. Mommy or Daddy would not be coming home; those season tickets for an NFL game would go unused. Weddings were not going to take place and becoming a parent within the year was no more. In its place were fear, grief, tears, questions and anger. Dissipated was the nuclear family, broken, unable to be replaced.
Living two thousand miles from this heinous act, I could provide prayers for many. However, to feel the terror those did on that day is not something I can empathize. I can express my condolences, but I cannot say, “I know how you feel.”
I was not covered with ashes, the results of destruction. I did not hear the sounds of panic, nor did I take in the odors they inhaled. When I shut my eyes, I do not see plumes of smoke, the mass running of thousands to nowhere, or people jumping from windows to their death. I did not have someone knock on my door to say my loved one didn’t make it, nor did I have to rush from one person to the next, photo in hand, to ask if someone had seen this important person in my life.
It has been nine years since the assassinations. Those who were in grade school are now in high school. Weddings have taken place and babies have been born. The void remains, however, of those lost that day. Survivors remember as if it happened yesterday.
Many more have lost their lives since then, giving up their freedom so we may keep ours. Loved ones continue to experience falling to their knees in agony, after hearing of another death. The sense of security no longer exists as it did before. The unknown lingers heavily on the minds of all people. There is a look of alarm in the surviving victims, never letting one’s guard down. Lives have been rebuilt, but not at the same endurance and strength as before. There is a determination to be the ones in control, but in the back of everyone’s mind is the thought to be careful, to be ready for anything.
I commend those who were directly affected on September 11, 2001. They have had to keep living, in spite of the torment experienced. Time goes on, with that second hand never slowing down on the clock. Seconds turn into minutes, minutes into hours, hours into days, days into months and months into years. No one can turn back time. It has been a long, continuous, journey, not over yet. My prayers and compassion will always be there, as they travel this arduous road.
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