I don’t have a whole lot of memories of September 11, 2001. I was in Kindergarten, attending only the afternoon session. This meant that I was at our babysitters’ house in the morning when the planes struck the World Trade Center.
I remember watching my babysitter, clearly a little bit afraid, saying that we weren’t going to go to school that day. As a kid, I think I mostly shrugged it off and continued to play. Why should I be worried if we didn’t have school that day?
My Memories
More clearly than not going to school, I remember the TV being on a lot. My parents had this tiny little 10″ TV in their bedroom that had a bubble screen. I remember that night before bed and into the next morning, my parents watching it intensely. It was like they couldn’t keep their eyes off of it. I’m sure I saw the replays of the plane crashing into the towers, the smoke that filled the city, and the heroes who came to the aid of thousands, but I just remember watching my mom and dad.
Isn’t that interesting? I have zero memory of much else from those days–only watching my parents and their fixation on the news. I wish I had more to remember and gather, but I do think this is a powerful memory. Children, myself included, constantly look to parents for guidance. Through the good, the bad, and the horrific, like 9/11, parents are seen as the source of truth to children. It wasn’t until much later in my life–perhaps even a decade later–that I’d truly realize that my parents were humans with limited life experience, too.
What Must 9/11 as a Parent Have Been Like?
What must they have been feeling that day? I wonder about what thoughts were going through their minds. Having just lived through Y2K, which many thought to be the end of the world in ways, they now were faced with one of the most atrocious acts of evil and violence the modern world had seen. I know they thought about potential other attacks–copycats, if you will. That’s a logical thought that most of the country had.
I wonder if they thought about sending us to school–was it safe? When would it be safe? Would our lives go back to normal again? Would our country be hunted in this way forever? What was the government going to do?
Beyond the fear of “what else,” I’m sure my parents’ hearts ached with those lost. My parents were–and are–extremely compassionate people. I’m sure hearing about the 2,977 souls lost that day surely hung with them. How, as a parent, do you go forward grieving this while protecting your children?
You can’t live in an obvious, painful state of grief. But you, too, as a human, must process the atrocities. I find this to be true in my life as a parent when I go through challenging things. I want to grieve, to process, to heal . . . but not all of that can be done directly in front of my children.
Remembering, Praying, Hoping
As 9/11 comes each year, I do hold space for the victims and the families of the victims. It is a painful day in our country’s history that no doubt will impact the country for years and years to come. In many ways, I hope we don’t forget the pain of it. We can’t. We simply can’t. The pain needs to drive us to remember, to pray, and to hope for better ahead. The pain has to drive us to do better for ourselves and perhaps more importantly, for our children.
As a parent now, I can’t fathom what my parents must have felt that day, but I am starting to. As this observance comes this year, I’ll hold my kids a bit closer and express gratitude for the country we live in. It’s not perfect, but it is strong–we are strong–and we will continue to be as we push on nearly 25 years later. We will never forget. And as I tuck my kids into bed safely, largely free of worry for their physical safety, I’ll make sure my family does not forget.
