September 11, 2001

Every American has their own memory of September 11, 2001.  We all know where we were, and what we were doing.  And what I was doing does not mean crap, because I was not there; I was on the West Coast, just dragging my butt out of my warm, comfy bed.  And I saw it all............
I belong to two discussion groups here at Daily Strength.  "Bereavement" & Widows & Widowers".  While I am currently grieving a recent, very personal loss, I continue to grieve, nine years later for the nearly 3000 Americans who lost their lives for no other reason than for being Americans.  In four horrific acts of hatred and fanatical ideology, countless thousands of widows, widowers, motherless children, fatherless children, and friendless friends were created.  The victims did not stand a chance, and they did not deserve their fate.  3000 Americans got up, got ready to go, kissed their spouses and kids good bye, and they went off to work, never to come home to their families again.
And here I sit.  Nine years later.  And my grief for them is as strong and unhealed as it was on September 12, 2001.  I have an image from that day that is burned forever into my brain, never to leave the forefront of my mind.  It is the image of a man.  An American man.  And the photo captured his image as he was free falling to his death from the burning tower that would have consumed him had he not jumped.  And I sit here.  And I cannot for the life of me imagine what could have been going through his mind as he fell.  He certainly had a long time to consider his fate as his fall was so agonizingly long.  Did he think of his wife?  Of her tender embrace and the passion of their lovemaking?  Or how about his little daughter who was just learning how to ride her bicycle?  Or maybe his son?  The son that he was teaching how to play short stop for his little league baseball team?  Was he afraid? How could he not be?  Did he pray?  Did God take him into His arms before he hit the ground, sparing him the pain of the awful impact of his body on the concrete below?  The answers to these questions I'll, of course never know.  Nor is it my right or my business to know.  Death is such a private, such a personal thing.  But his death was so public.  And so tragic.  And so unnecessary.  And he was not alone.  Many, many of my fellow Americans were forced to make that dreadful decision to jump or burn in the inferno that threatened to cremate them alive.
And I am angry.  Very angry.  But this is neither the time or the place to express my anger and the vengeance that I still seek in their memory.  So I will save my vengeance for the Lord.  He has reserved a special place in Hades for the vermin that perpetrated these acts, and who would wish us further harm.
I did not know the "falling man".  I did not know Todd Beamer.  I did not know any of the nearly 3000 souls who were murdered on September 11, 2001.  But I loved each and every one of them.  Why?  Because I am an American.  And they were Americans.  And I was brought up to love my country and my fellow Americans who stand with me in the name of Freedom and Liberty.  And I grieve for them.  And I grieve for their families and those who knew them personally.  And I grieve for us all, because America was attacked in the most cowardly way imaginable on September 11, 2001.  And I do not believe that Americans will ever be able to complete the "5 stages of grief" that the so called experts advise us to work through.  I know that I won't.
I usually conclude my postings with a song, poem, or music video.  There are many tributes to September 11, 2001 available on You Tube.  Somehow or another, I just don't feel like posting any of that now.  But I will never forget. 
Well, I changed my mind.  How could we not include this tribute to America??



For all my grieving:

You Tube//Bon Iver//Woods

I think that tomorrow 09/11 we should have a moment of silence for those Americans who gave the ultimate sacrifice their lives. I say that the moment of silence be at noon wherever you are in the country. So at noon tomorrow wherever you are, a moment of silence. You are not forgotten but forever in our hearts. Carla

well Joe,
I irony of timing. I know I had said to you today that I would not be back to ds, that my time had come to move forward. yet I sat tonight at my desk lost in thought and this journal came through on my aol.
it is beautifully written, and eloquent as all your writings are. but this one is of such a personal nature.
all great tragedies are split between the minds of the masses and the hearts of the \"inner circle\"
we all broke in pieces over columbine, Oklahoma city, the war in Iraq. but we learn through a place such as DS that all these things that can not be understood in the minds of the masses are felt on such a real level to those directly involved.
I have had a horrid week in anticipation of tomorrow. I wish I could sit from afar and write poetic words about the insanity of 9/11 but I am not so blessed. I know I had spoken to you of the restaurant I owned for 20 years. it sat outside the path train station in Hoboken, across the river from the twin towers. my big claim to fame was the view of those towers that greeted me every morning. thousands passed my door every morning flying down the steps to the train to the world trade center, and at 5 p.m. came up the stairs and graced me with endless hours of stories of the world of money and power (and often greed,but always laughter)
many were customers, but more importantly many were friends and neighbors.
so yes Joe, I do know their names. my restaurant was turned into a triage center within an hour of the first plain hitting. wounded survivors were being hustled onto ferry boasts and brought over, as local ER personal took over my restaurant. table that feed the funs seekers, turned into beds waiting for help. chaos of a nature I can not put into words, as all stood in complete disbelief as the second tower also met it\'s destiny.
the days that followed would be longer, and what once was the view of towers of strength turned into an endless raising of dust and fog that lingered long after the shock had worn off.
the month to follow was endless funerals for me. so yes, they have names, but they also have stories. I will hold out last names, for they have more then earned their privacy. but there is Suzanne l., her fabulous husband bobby, who had been out of work for a year. he finally got a new job and 4 of us went out to celebrate. she flew that morning to Texas, as she was working with bear sterns and was on a business trip. bobby was finally going back to work that morning after dropping his young son and daughter off to school. no one could have known that was the last time bobby would ever be with us. or Wayne h., who had left wall street and bought the restaurant next door to me. it was harder getting it off the ground then he thought so he decided to go back to wall street for a year while also working the restaurant all night long. we ate late lunch together everyday and he had spent the last month bitching to me that quitting smoking \"sucked\" but he was determined not to die of cancer after watching his mother in law die from it. when time passed of all hope for survivors I so hoped that someone on his floor had a cigarette for him as he faced his destiny.
my best friend of 25 years was a heavy hitter on wall street. he had a heart attack months earlier that had him out of work. he complained everyday about how much he missed \"the street\" and was crawling out of his skin recovering wanting to get back. he worked for cantor Fitzgerald, the first floor hit and no survivors of that firm at all. he watched while every last friend and co worker perished.
the months that followed were non stop funerals, churches in suburbia packed beyond capacity in deafening silence.
there is a group that rarely gets recognition. those are the survivors that saw more then anyone should see. a friend was wrapped over his head with a blanket by a fireman and told he was close enough to an exit and to just run straight and do not look back. he ran until he was hit and knocked to the ground. when he threw off other blanket from his face, he had been knocked to the grounds by body parts of those jumping to their fate. those stories are numerous. they are alive,they survived, but their souls and minds are simply a small reflection of what they once were. there eyes mirror the darkness that is left in them for life.
my stories are endless, as are the tears and the states of both my heart and soul.
yes, it is a global disaster, and I am so thankful that the outrage continues. but new York is much more then a city. it is a home and a neighborhood, not different then the tiniest towns in the Midwest.
I can not find forgiveness, I can not find understanding and I can not find an intelligent understanding of the mosque that is now being built next to the grounds that house the remains of my friends and the remains of their spouses and children\'s hearts and souls.
I have grown past my prayers being for those who perished, they have gone onto those who survived them and left with the daunting task of knowing what their loved ones lived threw in their last moments.
I hope when all of you pray tomorrow that you will pray for those left behind.
I am enraged THAT SO MANY ARTICLES WRITTEN AFTER THE FACT TALKED ABOUT THOSE PEOPLE JUMPING AS \"COMMITTING SUICIDE\" . these people were left no option and I hope and pray that in the 10 loor seconds it took to jump from floor 110 to the ground, that those 10 seconds were filled with air in their lungs and a 10 second replay of thief love in their lives and in their hearts.
my life as an American was forever altered, along with every other American. but my life was forever saddened and emptied by the loss of my friends.
my memory will always be bobby l\'s young son carrying his dad\'s hockey stick into church at the funeral.
so those are some of the names and some of the stories that forever changed the map of my life and shape of my heart.
may there be peace today and more then just a simple moment of silence

Judi ~ there will a special prayer going up from my heart for you tomorrow...thank you for sharing the is much more personal for me now, having read them ~ peace to you... ~E~

Joe....You don\'t have to be an American to feel what that day did to the whole world. On that day, I was living in a dreary little apartment in Dublin. I was just starting college...thinking about going into the convent...having a peaceful life. This day rocked the world and made many think of their own individual freedoms. Here in the stated, there was this young farm boy that felt humbled by what had been put upon the people. Four weeks later, Todd promised himself to his country. This same terrorist movement that was responsible for the lives lost on 9/11 is responsible for every American soldier lost in Iraq/Afghan. A lot have given all they had. peace to all today. Kaaren