September 7, 2011
Right now I’m sitting at my dining room table enjoying a beautiful fall-like day. The sun is shining bright in the sky; the sky is a robin egg blue, and the breeze is whistling through the trees. I feel a deep sense of gratitude for this glorious day. There are so many ways or perspectives to view this day. It is the first day I’ve been home alone since my kids started back to school. It’s 4 days before the 10th anniversary of the events from 9/11 2001 and it’s 4 days before my 2nd time of running the Chicago Half-marathon. When I signed up to run it a year ago, a few days after the first time I ran it, I didn’t think too much about what it would be like to run on the 10th anniversary of that eventful day in 2001 and as I’ve watched the news coverage leading up to the day, I find myself thinking often about where I was 10 years ago and how different my life is now.
Ten years ago, I lived in Phoenix Arizona. My children were young! Chloe wasn’t even a year yet and Madison was 5. They were both in a daycare that I loved and I worked for the Maricopa County Clerk of Court. I loved my job and my coworkers. That day my husband was scheduled to have surgery on his wrist and I had an important presentation to deliver to the senior managers of the Clerk’s office. I was up very early just drinking my coffee, when the local news reported that a plane had hit one of the World Trade Towers in New York.
They switched back to local news and I immediately turned to CNN and saw the now iconic image of the smoking tower, wondering if it was a large commercial plane or a small plane. At that point, it wasn’t clear what had happened. I also wondered if people in the still intact tower were just sitting at their desks working while watching the other tower burn. I remembered thinking that I would have left immediately.
I shook my husband awake to show him and as I walked away, he yelled that another plane had hit the other tower. That was the moment. That was the unmistakable moment when we realized that this was not an accident, but a planned and deliberate attack of the buildings. The news reel scrolling at the bottom of the screen was saying that an undisclosed fire was burning at the Pentagon and even though they didn’t say what it was, there was this sense of knowing that it was connected to what was happening in NY City. No one knew what was going on and there were few official reports to give because even the officials didn’t know what was going on. Within a short span of time, everything changed.
Then we did what we always do: we started our day, only this time I wondered what was going to happen next and should I even go to work, but I did and the day didn’t last very long. The presiding judge closed the courts and I didn’t give my presentation that day. Instead I sat in a waiting room glued to a tv with everyone else watching in silent horror as events unfolded waiting for my husband to be released. I was touching the arm of the person sitting next to me and neither of us must have realized it because neither one of us moved away. They had to say my name 3 times before I realized they were calling me.
For people who witnessed it first hand and experienced a direct loss, this memory must be very painful. I hope people are taking time for themselves to reflect on this. Now that I am a coach, I understand the importance of acknowledging whatever feelings are present. Moving forward sometimes requires a backward glance to see how far we’ve come and to recognize how much of the past is still with us.
Forgiving is not forgetting and forgetting is not healing.
Ten years ago I never would have thought that I would even want to run 13 miles, let alone actually be able to. For me-it’s a good way to spend the day. And if there is anything to be learned and remembered from that day it is this: the world is a both/and place. It is tragic and beautiful, evil and good, scary and exciting, and the cure for most of the world’s problems is love. I’ll let you know how I do on Sunday and however you choose to spend the day, may it be an authentic expression of who you are.
Peace, Suzanne