It’s cloudy and rainy this morning. The kids are in school. My husband’s traveling. It’s just me and Reesie-pup, waiting on the bug guy.
And I am remembering, like you. Today is 9/11, a fact that didn’t register until Christian asked me this morning what he was doing riding a bike on September 11, and why wasn’t he in school that day. He was confused–it was the day the Iraq War started that he learned to ride a bike. On 9/11, he wasn’t even five years old. He barely remembers a world where 9/11 didn’t happen.
That day, Roo, our 13-year-old dog was dying–at the time it was the closest death had ever gotten to me. I cried oceans that week, for Roo and for more than 3,000 people I never knew. For me, the two events are forever one. Personal grief eclipsed by national grief that was certainly personal for the families of the slain. And both eclipsed by universal grief for a world that would never be as it was.
This cloudy, rainy anniversary of 9/11 could be depressing. But I will not allow it. I could think of my husband being gone so much, but I know he will be home at the end of the week. Christian will be home at the end of the day, and Ryan is at the other end of Skype. When I clean out the kids’ closets later, I could cry to remember the days when they were little, but I won’t. At least I am here to remember those days. At least my children have grown up with two parents and we have grown up with them. And I have Reesie to keep me company, the way Roo (and Gus) used to. I am so lucky.
Today is a day for reflection, for remembrance, for gaining perspective. Today, I honor the memories of those who died on 9/11.
Today, I can’t be anything but grateful for life.