Monday, September 11, 2006
9/11
I wish the week was less busy -- that I had more time to explore the complex emotions I feel today. Though I have a strong memory of where I was when I found out the planes had hit the World Trade Center; a more poignant memory for me is of visiting my wheelchair bound father a week later back in my hometown. The news was still near continuous and his arthritis-crippled body seemed a metaphor for America's sadness and weariness in dealing with what seemed a world gone insane. The world seeming to be a place where when one bad actor passes from the stage there is always another to fill the role.
My father is gone now. He never got to see me marry or bounce a grandchild on his knee. I can never think of 9/11 without thinking of the loss of my father or the loss of my father without thinking of 9/11. As long as my wife and daughter are alive I know I will never again feel that same sense of loss.
