Eighteen Years
September 11, 2019
Good morning America
The years keep rolling by. Was it that long ago that we were stunned, in shock, disbelief, and crushed as we watched the news and as we stared at the pictures and videos on television? The last few days, moving videos have popped up on Facebook, with short stories, essays, poems, recalling that day. We each relive that day, down to the moment we heard or saw the first news breaking. Part of us died that day. A sadness that we never dreamed we would feel.
I watched an interview on the 10th anniversary of that day. Several mothers who had lost a son or daughter told how each year on the anniversary of 9-11, they meet for lunch. They hug, they cry, they hug some more, they cry some more. They love each other, each feeling the same emotion, each missing their child. Their hearts are slowly mending, but they will never completely be the same. They need each other and will continue to grasp the hand of their friend.
After seeing that interview, I wrote a poem, with those mothers in mind. They are on my mind a lot. They are in my prayers. Those who died that day are on my mind. I pray that all of those dear people are in the arms of our Creator, resting until that day when they will be reunited with their loved ones. Following is a link to that poem.
