by Paige Ray of Approaching Joy
I’ve heard it said that September 11th is my generation’s “Where were you?” moment. Just like the generations of Americans before us who experienced horrific tragedy (the attack on Pearl Harbor, the assassinations of John F Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr, the Challenger explosion) this was our first time to see the world stop for a fraction of a second, and then, in a heartbeat, burst into a thousand little pieces that looked impossible to repair. In that second, it seems as if everyone of that generation momentarily stops, takes a mental snapshot, and then continues living their life at normal speed. It’s that snapshot that everyone is able to recount years later, when the question, “Where were you?” comes up.
Subsequently, that moment is also the moment that, as a group, a generation begins to realize that life does, somehow, manage to go on. Heroic measures are taken, rubble begins to get carted away, plans for a memorial are began and then… A moment later… Ten years have passed. Life has done the thing that is does so well: It shows itself to have been just beautiful enough to be considered desirable, just mysterious enough to be worth chasing.
And that’s the part of the story that I choose to bring into the future. While I will never be able to tell my children that I’ve flown without a fear of a terrorist attack, I will be able to tell them of the loving hearts and wonderful creations I discovered on the other side of those plane rides. While my children will never be able to take in the view from the original World Trade Towers, I do hope they that will eventually have the chance to come out of a dark subway tunnel in New York City and experience the exquisite beauty that is NYC on an early Autumn day.
The same is true with personal loss.
While my children may never meet my grandfather, they will eat East Texas sausage and gravy and hear funny stories of a man who would oink like a pig. While they will never hear my grandmother’s laugh, they will hear the joyous sound of an old timey saloon piano and wonder how two hands could ever make such magic.
While I can never promise a lack of heartbreak and loss, I do believe that there is an abundance of beauty and mystery out there to pull us through.
Paige is a friend, a champion of non-profits, and a highly inexperienced world traveler. She prefers reading and exploring over most other things. She blogs at ApproachingJoy.com and spends way too much time on Instagram.
Such a lovely post. The good doesn’t always soften the bad but at the same time the bad does discount the good or make it any less important. (paraphrasing The Doctor)
I was in NYC in December following 9/11 after debating for several months about whether I should go. I’m so glad I did. The New Yorkers were so very appreciative that we came, that we cared. I stood at Ground Zero, tears flowing, wondering just how people could be so mean, could hurt so many without regard or reverence, without humanity. I recalled the young stewardess who was a friend of our daughter’s and wept for her family all over again, and I hurt again as fourteen bodies were recovered that week. But somehow in all of that horror, there was hope. There was good. I pray that my grandchildren, your children and their children will never know such horribleness. But I do pray that they know such hope.
Thank you for this beautiful post. My mother talked about where she and my dad were when they heard about Pearl Harbor. I remember exactly where I was for the other events you mentioned. Each one changed our world, but they don’t have to define us. There’s something about life going on that helps us keep living after we’ve been touched by tragedy. It seems cruel at the time, but it saves us from drowning in grief.
You are beautiful with the words. I love your soul. I stood at the Bush library a few weeks ago and listened to a dad explain what the two steel beams were. And I remembered that it’s the most significant moment to our generation. But this 14 year old was unaware of the heaviness of the day.