Today is a particularly hard day, for so many reasons. 13 years ago, thousands of people died as I watched it all unfold on my tv. I still remember seeing the first images of the Towers with smoke rising around them and thinking “why are they showing this….that bomb went off years ago” and not knowing that it was new, it wasn’t a bomb, I knew people in those buildings who would not make it out. Today, I remember them with sadness and I remember who we were as a country at that time. We were together, united, we were there for one another. Here in NJ, there was kindness all around; you didn’t know if the person in front of you at the red light or in line at the store had lost someone or was waiting to find someone. There are still some that are lost who will never be found; my cousin’s husband and his brother worked for Cantor Fitzgerald, they were not found.
And today marks 8 months since my mom passed away. 8, in this sense, seems like such a large number. 8. It’s close to 10, closer to 12 than 7 or 6. As the days and weeks move forward quickly, I am forced to come to terms with the fact that the holidays will soon be here. Halloween means another costume and cute pictures of her one and only grandchild. Thanksgiving means that we’ll try to recreate her meal without her help this time. And Christmas. I don’t really know what to say about that day. I knew that she would not be here for this one, but it doesn’t make it any less difficult to think of celebrating without her.
Today, I remember everyone that is gone, not just from 9/11, not just from 1/11, but anyone I’ve known and cared about who is gone. They are all missed, I have memories of them all, and I hope to see them all again.
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