Remembering

Sometimes I go back and read my old entries in OD. I’ve been on OD since 2000, so that’s 11 years of writing. 11 years of my life.

I’ve noticed my writing since Ray died has changed. I used to write in this happy poetic way that was short and to the point, but interesting. And now my writing is so flat and factual and DULL!

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For example, here’s what I wrote on 9/16/01:

She asked for a moment of silence before we started to play bingo.
I bowed my head and folded my hands together and crawled into the moment. My ears throbbed for a sound, but there was only a faint echo of screams and cries and confusion all merging into one wail.
The silence rolled on. I followed its crevices into pockets of melted steel and glass shards stuffed with notes for meetings and unbalanced checkbooks and keys that will no longer open any door.
It was too long and not long enough. I wanted to put out the fire, but there was no time to get the rescue equipment because the silence collapsed when a match was struck.
A white candle was lit. We sat down and waited for the first number to be called.
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I would never write anything like that now. I would just report the facts, ma’am, just the facts. I wouldn’t try to spin them into an interesting arrangement, but leave them bare, out to dry in the sun, stark and naked.
My writing has definitely changed.

Today is a beautiful day in Minnesota. Summer is back, without the humidity, but the heat is on. I have every window open in the house. A gentle northern breeze is blowing through. It’s wonderful.

And it’s not unlike 9/11/01. That was a beautiful day, too, for us in Minnesota, as we watched New York City and Washington, DC being attacked.

I remember the helpless feeling of not being able to do anything. I told Joe this week, “All those people in the Towers were just going to work, just like I go to work every day. They never expected to be propelled into a terroristic war that beautiful morning.”

Now that I’m a widow, I understand the gravity of those 9/11 widows and widowers. I was lucky, I got to kiss my husband and hold his hand before he died. He heard me say over and over, “I love you.”

But for many of the left behind spouses, they could only watch the horror exploding before them on TV and know that they would never see they loved one again. Never be able to say, “I love you.”

Another thing I wrote on 9/15/01:

National Public Radio was interviewing a teacher from CT this week. She had her class write letters to the victims, the people who did this, or the President. A letter was written to the people who did this by a 10 year old girl and her words continually echo in my mind:

We will find you and we will take you to court and punish you. Then we will forgive you.

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Can we forgive?

Osama bin Laden is dead, along with so many of his terrorist comrades.

The war in Iraq was totally unnecessary. And what’s going on in Afghanistan now that bin Laden is dead?

It’s time to bring our soldiers home.

And tuck into our hearts the memories of those fine people who were killed or wounded or worked on the crash sites or who were killed in the war.

9/11 is 10 years ago; it’s time to stop the bleeding.