On September 11th, 2001, I was 6 miles away from the World Trade Center in mid-town. My life was never in danger. My husband’s was never in danger. I didn’t lose anyone. Every year I feel like compared to so many, I have no right to be devastated. Every year I think, I won’t cry this time, it will get easier. And every year it’s just as painful.
When we look at societies who face violence and war for decades on end and we wonder why they can’t get it together, why they can’t get past the fighting and the cycle and the trauma? I think about my tiny grief. If I’m still sad and hurt and in pain over something that was 11 years ago and did not directly harm me or take any of my inner circle, imagine the generational grief and shock and trauma that never ends?
If it never stops, how can they ever break through? How can there be healing?