It is September 10 and for some reason I am thinking heavily of tomorrow. September 11. I remember very well the original 9/11. I remember it with a little bit of guilt. I remember hearing the news on the way to school, getting there and listening to so many discuss the sadness with tears in their eyes. I didn't cry. I just couldn't. I couldn't seem to find the ability to feel bad at all. I mean it was sad, but you see I was already so sad. I was at work...my son was dying. I felt that if I allowed myself to feel any more pain I would not be able to survive.
I didn't understand at that point how this event would later effect my life and my family. At that time in my life each moment was filled with fear that it would be the last with my son or with sadness watching my son deteriorate before my eyes. I remember consciously choosing to not feel sad about the events of 9/11.
Later though this event would take my husband away from my family for 15 months. This event started a war and my husband was called to serve his country. I was unable to call my husband, I could email him but needed to keep them short and positive. He could call but our calls were limited to 10 minutes or so. 9/11 had effected my family more than I ever expected.
I feel bad that I didn't feel the sorrow so many felt that day. I felt bad that I didn't think it was something that would ever really matter to me. It was at the time just something far away and of no concern for my family. I wish I had understood better the cost of what happened that day. The many who lost their loved ones that day. The sacrifices made. We all sacrifice but you see today...my husband is home.
