Thursday, September 11, 2008


I can't believe it is September.

I woke up this morning with vivid memories of the eleventh. It was 2001 and Stevie and I got up very early. She had radiation at John Muir scheduled that day. She didn't know that Steve and TT had taken the day off and at home everyone would be waiting with balloons. It was her last day of radiation and she was puffed up like a steroid balloon. She had been so brave through it all, and it was scary.

She was saying good-bye to the techs she that had adopted her. She was the youngest patient and they had seen her everyday for six weeks, she kinda grew on them, she was glad to never see them again.

The waiting room was somber, the ride home was quiet, the air seemed to be humming quietly. We came home to balloons and the television showing a plane smashing into the twin towers. We went from celebrating to jaw dropping disbelief in a matter of seconds.

We cancelled our drive to the city and our plans for Joe's Crab Shack and the pier. We sat at home instead and watched it all happen again and again. The town seemed to shut down.

Stevie had her Make-a-Wish trip planned for that week, in New York, we called and cancelled it.

We ordered Chinese and huddled. I remember writing to my online support group that it felt like the whole world had a brain tumor.

Today those families gather to remember the loved ones lost, that terrible day, and the insanity of that time. They stand where it all happened, cry and wonder what it would be like if they could turn back time and change one little thing.

All around them the world moves, vibrates, and hums. Life continues, new babies are born, there are new people doing those old jobs in different buildings now.

I understand this pain, it is collective. Loss is a consciousness I belong to now and even though it seems that the whole world has forgotten there are those of us who stand completely still in this moment remembering.

For me it isn't about flags, wars and revenge. It is simply learning to live with a change in reality, empty spaces, and the knowing that nothing is solid or permanent, shit happens...

Good happens too.

1 comment:

FoxFamilyFive said...

Your have such a gift with words. Sometimes I am amazed by them. Sometimes I wonder how you got them out of my head and onto the screen.

I love you G. So much. As I walk this road with my Hadley Bug it hurts to know that, once again, you have traveled it before me. Different steps, different stride, different seasons but, the same path.

I love you.