The 11th Anniversary

I was just too emotionally drained yesterday to post anything.  Each anniversary is different but every year I usually wish we could just skip September 10-12.  Those 3 days are just exhausting emotionally. It seems that every year brings something a little different and I think because the events of September 11, 2001 were on such a grand scale it always rocks me to my very core.  I feel pain to the depths of my soul that is almost indescribable.

While I know I shouldn't be, I'm amazed at the diverse responses you get from people.  One will say, "you should be over it by now," while another one wants to tell you exactly what they were doing when they heard about September 11.  Usually I am very gracious and patient but occasionally (with my inside voice) I snap and think, "if you only knew."  I guess it is because I'm only human but anyone that knows me well knows that I don't like to show my moments of weakness.  It is hard enough to have them but then to have them publicly takes it to a whole different level.

I have discovered (since I'm not fond of surprises) I can usually brace myself and be somewhat prepared for what lies ahead of me.  It is the 10 pm call from a news reporter on Mother's Day asking your reaction to the capture and death of Osama Bin Laden that throws me off.  With the anniversaries, I know they are coming, I know there is no avoiding it so I've learned how to get through them.  However, those other 'little surprises' really throw me a curve ball.  I think in some way those surprises are reminiscent of that day.  Every step and every turn held a new surprise, one that was literally a matter of life and death.  In some ways it was like being plucked up and dropped into the set of some crazy movie or dream, only with no script or rehearsal - absolutely surreal.

Yesterday, my husband left for a doctor appointment before I did.  We kissed each other good bye and he said, "I'm really glad you didn't sit down" as he walked out the door.  Last night I told him that I was glad I didn't sit down as well but I had desperately wanted to.  I'm glad I didn't strike Rodin's "The Thinker" pose until much later in the morning because I wouldn't be typing this if I'd succumbed to the strong desire to stop and think.

I look back at what a naive young woman I was.  For me, the thought of a terrorist was something from Back To The Future (one of my favorite movies) and most certainly not anything I had to consider or think about.  I think it is much of the naivety that helped keep me safe that day.  If I'd known that I would spend an hour standing in line to die, unable to breath, I would probably not have headed into the stairwell.  If I'd known people were jumping to their death and I would have to dodge the falling bodies while walking through blood and human remains, I wouldn't have gone into the courtyard.  Of course, instead I'd been in the building when it collapsed.  If I'd known there was even a remote chance that either of the buildings would collapse, I wouldn't have lingered to take a photo.  If I'd known the chards of glass be falling like the blades of a guillotine, I wouldn't have gone through the glass doors into the mall.  If I'd known the port authority officer (or whoever she was) at the door into the courtyard was yelling at me for my own safety, I wouldn't have been angry with her.  What I do know is that if I had known most of those things, I am certain I would have made other deadly choices.

I am comforted to know that on some physiological level, I can rely on myself to make good decisions when in a moment of crisis.  It seemed like every time I exited one situation I found myself in another unbelievable one.  As I came out of the stairwell into the lobby, it looked like a bomb had exploded and I had to wade through water to exit.  I saw what I thought was someone burning in the elevator and thought about how I wish I could help them but was certain that if something could have been done the firefighters would have already taken care of it.

I'm glad I didn't turn right and head to my hotel even though I'd spent an hour thinking about going to my room as soon as I got out of the building.  I'm glad that while I had no idea where I was or where I was going they shooed me away from the building (regardless of how frustrated it made me at the time).  I'm glad that when I turned around after snapping a photo and saw the huge chunks of steel pummeling toward me that my brain immediately said, "get down and the street isn't good enough."  I'm glad that there was a subway entrance just a few feet in front of me.  I'm glad that I lingered in the subway long enough for my tower to collapse, unbeknownst to me.  I'm glad the vendor in the subway wouldn't let me use his phone to call home and the pay phone wouldn't work.  I'm glad that God shielded me from the knowledge of what was really happening until I was in a place where I could process it (at the shelter).  Most of all, I'm glad that my cell phone didn't work that day because I was ready and prepared to die except that I hadn't said goodbye to my daughter and family.  In retrospect, I'm glad that I was the young 28 year old naive woman - it helped save my life.

I'm glad that one of my closest childhood friends opened his home to me and provided me with some sense of normalcy and security on the evening of September 11, 2001.  Little did I know that while I was naive in my thinking, he was wise in his.  When he told me goodbye at the train station 11 years ago today, he quoted Andy Warhol and said maybe this was my 15 minutes of fame.  I was so overwhelmed and in shock that I hadn't a clue what he meant at the time.  Both of us were artists, close friends and had shared lots of high school memories together.  I didn't understand how such a horrific experience could possibly be something I would gain fame from.  I didn't really want fame in the first place but if I had to have fame I wanted it to be from my artwork.  Looking back, I understand what he meant but it has taken 11 years to come to terms with it.  I guess Andy Warhol didn't say that your 15 minutes of fame would be for something you wanted it to be for - that wasn't part of the deal.

How did someone that hates politics because of the divisive nature it brings, someone that likes cultural diversity and religious freedom, someone that aches from the destruction of humanity and evil end up in the middle of this mess?  I will never know the answers to all of my whys and what ifs but I know that God knows.  I'm sure I'll spend many more years pondering them but I can take solace in the fact that it really doesn't matter because God knows and in the end, that is really what matters.  I hope that when I stand before him on judgement day he tells me, "I know I didn't give you a road map but job well done."