September 11: Ten Years Later

I was still getting to know the girls at my lunch table, we were all beginning sixth grade together in a new school. An eighth grade teacher on lunch duty escorted my friend, Elizabeth, to the front office. Her mom had called and wanted to let her know that her dad was alright. Elizabeth's dad was in the Marine Corps and had been in New York that day. 

We hadn't heard anything from teachers or other students.  I had noticed a few students leave school early, but nothing out of the ordinary, though as the day progressed and class sizes shrunk it became more apparent. 

When Elizabeth got back from the office she told us that a plane had hit some skyscrapers in New York. None of us knew what the World Trade Center was, none of us had been there, I had never been to New York City. It was completely foreign to me. It wasn't until I got home from school that I found out about the plane that had hit the Pentagon, just twenty-five miles away from my house.

Volleyball tryouts and all other after school activities had been canceled. My mom wasn't home, but she didn't want me to be by myself and had asked her friend to meet me. It wasn't that I wasn't allowed to be home alone, it was that she was nervous. I don't remember the woman's name, but we sat on the couch and watched the footage together. I don't really remember talking to my parents about it. I knew what happened, I had let it set in, but I wasn't scared.

That night everyone in my neighborhood had flags and candles set out on their porches. School had been canceled for the next two days and everyone on my street was outside. While the adults talked amongst themselves, me and a couple of other kids noticed the helicopters flying overhead in regular intervals. We were used to seeing them, it's fairly normal to see one any day anywhere in the DC suburbs, but not as frequently as they were that evening, and for the following months. 

The next day's paper included a printed flag for readers to tape in their windows and doors. The candles continued to be lit each evening. The eerie sense of unity persisted well after the paper flags had faded and been thrown away. 

I understood what terrorism was, but it wasn't a word that I had heard much before September 11th, I wasn't aware of The Middle East, or what countries it was made up of - I could hardly pass my states quiz in History class. September 11th very abruptly made me aware of a much larger world, one in which one's nationality and religion mattered. I had Muslim friends and classmates from everywhere, and that day didn't make me reconsider their friendship, it wasn't something that anyone cared about at lunch, not at school. They were Americans too, and just as affected as I was. 

Of everything everyone seemed to be feeling, the only emotion that had really set in for me was sadness. I was confused. We hadn't done anything, at least nothing twelve year olds are aware of, and the idea that people existed whose intentions were to interrupt my life, who set out each day to conceive new ideas for inflicting fear upon anyone vulnerable enough to accept it, that, that was what I didn't understand. Ten years later there is still no understanding to be had. As long as people remain scared of the unfamiliar, of the foreign, of people in clothing different than our own, with customs traditional to a culture we ignore and bigot, the hatred and fear and terror will persist.

sometimes it can't be fixed

today my mom came upstairs crying. this is never a good sign, and with seemingly everyone in my family's health steadily decreasing, i brace myself and prepare for the worst. in the past few years we've known several people that have died, and consequently i've come to expect certain people to die. it's bound to happen sooner rather than later in a lot of circumstances.

today my mom announced that my cousin's husband jeff committed suicide. i won't go into details other than he was in the hospital when it happened. Jeff, was one of those guy's guys. he liked hunting, and fourwheeling, wrestling with his dogs, those sorts of things. he lost his leg years ago in a work related accident, this handicap didn't keep him from doing much. he still went swimming, hiking, whatever, he did it.

you could talk to him with immense ease. i had no idea that this was coming, i knew they were having marital problems, but suicidal, that's a bit much.

what's worse is who he's left behind. his five year old son may have been able to deal with divorce, but knowing that your father committed suicide, not having your dad, well that 's completely different. he's destined to go through years of therapy, while death is always upsetting, i can't help but be a bit frustrated with jeff's actions.

i think everyone has shitty days, days where se can't seem to think of anything right, days when we feel like we're in a slump, permanately. sometimes this lasts days, week, months, maybe even years, but things always look up. even for one day, at least there was that day, and while shitty sucks, a day like that is worth sticking around for another. what if there isn't another? don't be ridiculous, there's always another, peaks and valleys exist, we're here to experience the ride.

i myself have thought about suicide. mostly while i'm driving. i'll think about what would happen if i sped up and drove against traffic, route one would be so easy. and then i think about all the people i'd be leaving behind, all the people that could potentially be injured in that situation if not killed and all the people they'd leave behind. suicide is selfish, possibly the most selfish action of them all. i believe in mental illness, but i also believe in treatment, and therapy, and outlets.

my mom was worried about his soul; where he's going. in the mormon faith, this action would basically mean hell. i don't think he's going to hell. and i don't think that god makes people suffer for all eternity for what they did on earth. i do believe however that the afterlife can be whatever we want it to be, and that our personality remains the same. if you're feeling guilty about something you did in this life in the afterlife, then you'll feel that guilt, but not forever, and one can only hope that the next life is better than this one. hope is the essance of life, without it there's nothing. i suppose jeff lost all hope. hope keeps us going. i hope that those he left behind can keep it.