Can you miss someone you've never met?
Loss and grief have been on my mind recently, as I'm sure they've been on many people's, considering that the 10th anniversary of the September 11 tragedy is coming up tomorrow. I'll briefly share my "where I was" moment--it was the fall semester of my eighth grade year, and the first I heard of the attacks was in my American History class, taught by Mr. Benson. I was thirteen years old, and not quite mature enough to understand the scale of the tragedy that day. It honestly didn't hit me until I came home after school that afternoon to my mom, sitting in a chair, watching our television and crying as though her heart were breaking. That my mother could weep for so many strangers hit me much harder than anything I had seen on TV that day, and I realized that our world had changed.
Thankfully, I didn't know anyone who perished in the tragic events of that day, although one of my uncles was in New York City at the time, in Tower 7 of the World Trade Center, and we didn't hear about his safety for a day or two after the 11th. But each year after, I have done my best to take a few moments and reflect on the sadness that that day represents, in the loss of so many lives, but also the unity it brings in inspiring our nation to come together, and the hope it stirs in so many people cooperating and rebuilding a city and each other's lives.
As I've become older, stories about September 11th touch me more and more deeply, bringing the grief that I didn't feel as a teenager but can now better understand as a young woman. Again, thankfully, I haven't had much personal loss in my life as of yet; not many of my immediate family members or close friends have passed away. But reflecting on the events of September 11th bring to mind the losses that I have felt. A beloved uncle, Steve, passed away in 2003. An unquestionable goofball, a musical genius, a sweet and kind man, Uncle Steve was hard to lose, and I still think of him often, at unexpected moments. Further back, my mom's mother passed away when I was three, when I was too little to remember the grief, and her father passed away before I was born, even before my parents got married. I never got to know this set of grandparents, and yet I miss them. I love when my mom and aunts and uncles tell stories about them; they bring them to life as the brilliant characters they were. Both loved music; both were devoted to their church, their faith, and their family. A picture from the time they were engaged, taken in the early 1940s, captures youthful joy--Nanny's hair is perfectly coiffed and she wears a stunning dress; Granddaddy looks handsome in his Navy uniform (he served in the Pacific theater on a submarine during World War II), and they both smile and glow with love. I never got to meet these amazing people, and yet I miss them. It saddens me that I never got to truly know this special part of my family; yet I know that Nanny and Granddaddy both look down on me with love and pride. I do as best as I can to make them proud, and when I do something that I am proud of, I think of them, and I can almost see them smile and know that they're proud of me too.
Can you miss someone you've never met? I believe, undoubtedly. I feel the absence of those who are gone; I do my best to make them proud.
On this 10th anniversary of September 11th, I finally begin to miss those who perished that day. Accounts of the bravery of the passengers of Flight 93 and the firefighters and policemen and citizens of New York who pulled people from the Twin Towers and Pentagon bring me to tears, as do stories of those of us who are left behind to, simply, miss them. Their absence leaves a hole in our lives, a hole that doesn't stop aching through the years.
Even so, this ache becomes more bearable, because I believe the ache can be assuaged with making those who are gone proud. I try to make my Nanny, my Granddaddy, and my Uncle Steve proud every day; I believe that remembrance and the bravery to rebuild will make proud the memory of those who died 10 years ago tomorrow.
We must not be afraid to miss those who are gone, but we also must not be afraid to unite in our grief, to comfort each other through it, and to look for the dawning of another day and a bright future. The future is bright--New York City unites to remember the lost; the World Trade Center is being rebuilt as a beacon of hope; Americans have a common event that can unite our purposes and make us one out of many, E Pluribus Unum.
To those who are gone, we miss you. We love you. We will make you proud.
