Witness

I ask myself, “who am I to write about the horrific and historical events that happened 10 years ago on Sept 11, 2001?” I didn’t personally lose a family member or friend.  And although we have family living in New York City and some within a few blocks of the area where the twin towers once stood – they were all physically unharmed.

So I ask myself again, “who am I to write about Sept 11^th?”  What right do I have to write about a time, and an event that caused so much deep and personal pain to so many?  But didn’t affect me to that level?

Who am I to write about Sept 11^th? I wasn’t there - but we live a mere 50 miles away from where the World Trade Center once stood.   Why do I feel I can write about Sept 11^th? Because, not only was this a horrific historic event, it was for us in this part of commuterville CT, a local event.

So who am I to write about Sept 11^th? I am a witness.  I am a witness to a moment in time that will be remembered by all the witnesses for ages to come.

On my drive to work, I heard the breaking news report by our local/NYC radio station about a plane that had crashed into the North tower moments before.  Then just after 9am as my stunned coworkers and I gathered and watched the live local news report about the “accident” on TV, our coffee cups in hand, we witnessed both in amazement and horror as the second plane crashed into the South tower…  I am a witness to their shock and pain, many of them were reverse commuters who lived in NYC and rode the train daily to our office in Westport CT.

I was a tearful witness to stress of the wives and husbands and family members not being able to contact their loved ones in NYC to check if they were ok, as the cell phone towers were knocked out. 

I was a witness to our commuter train stations being eerily empty of returning riders during the usual evening rush, and to the horror on the faces of some of the ones who made it back. 

And I am a witness to the pain on the faces of the people who waited there at the stations for hours – hoping the next train that arrived would be carrying their heart back to them.  I am a witness to the many flyers posted there for days-weeks-months after that followed, “have you seen… missing… 9/11…”

And I am a volunteer mourner.  I don’t know the deceased other than when their thousands of names are read aloud every year for the last 10 years, but I mourn for them on behalf of their families.  And I mourn for the thousands of families who’s loved one was never even identified.

I pray for the victims and for God to lighten the burdens of those they left behind.  I will mourn for the loss every year when lists are read again.  And I will always try to stop what I’m doing, to listen and pray and probably choke back tears or cry for a bit as I admit that I cannot even imagine what this must be like for them.

And I am a mourner every time another local news story tells us how yet another “survivor” or Firefighter or NYPD officer or rescuer has died of health issues related to dust inhalation.   

I am a witness to terror – to humanities ability to hate on each other with such violence and disregard for life – if its culture is different than yours…

And I am a witness to heroism – to humanities ability to help, to throw themselves into danger – at the true risk of their own life – to save a fellow human…

And I am a witness to the NYC skyline landscape which we took for granted - being forever changed.  Driving into the city shortly after 9/11 to check on Ma, we were surprised at the skyline, the plumes of dust and smoke that lingered and hung over the city for days on end.  And then, once the air was cleared, seemingly a million years later, the gaping hole left in the skyline.

My 8 year old – and all the children born after 2001 may never really get it... This is “ancient” history to them, perhaps much in the same way as segregation, Dr King’s assassination, vinyl records and 8 track tapes are in the past to them. So I am an intentional witness to them – I tell them why we all should stand still and say a prayer or give thanks for our lives even for a moment on this day.  It happened in other places too – not just in NYC – and it could have happened anywhere to any of us.  So, even 10 years later, even if it happened before you were born, we should remember.   

I’m a witness and a mourner - and every year for the last 10 years I dig up and remember what I wish had never happened, what I wish I had never seen or heard or shared through the faces and hearts of the people around me – and every year I cry and choke up and then on Sept 12^th I hide my pain back down deep inside because ... who am I to feel like this? by what right do i have these feelings of pain? I was not a "victim"... I am only a witness.