Connections

I wasn't planning on writing about 9/11.

I have never felt connected to the day. I will never be part of the national patriotism that enveloped the country.

On 9/11/01 I was in Panama. I was a Peace Corps volunteer, welcoming a new group of volunteers on their first day in country. It was surreal. I was unable to watch the days of coverage that mesmerized and horrified the nation as I did not have a television. I went back to my village, and went on with daily life.

I have never understood the collective mourning since I wasn't here. I was not connected.

But this week, a funny thing happened.

As I listened to NPR recounting stories over the past few days. I was surprised to be crying on my way to work. I realized that being a mother has changed me. That the stories about parents losing their children hit me hard. That I finally had a connection with that day. I can't fathom losing my child. In one interview, a man had lost both his sons. He said..."I had them for 24 and 26 years" and went on to say how lucky he was that the last thing he said to his sons was that he loved them. It made the tears flow, and made me want to tell A how much I love him every day before I leave for work.

Losing a child must be the worst thing I can imagine. My heart goes out today to everyone that has lost a loved one, especially parents that have lost their children, a pain I cannot even fathom.