I was home alone tonight (technically) and decided to watch the TLC special on 9/11. I watched for a while, maintaining my original (prior to Justin's going away to BC) emotional control. We have a large-screen TV, probably similar to those found in many middle class homes in America. I was lying on the couch, just watching...then...then...wow...
I glanced up to the right of the screen JUST A LITTLE...where the picture of my son hangs -- his senior picture: leaning against a tree in his suit and tie, crossed arms, crooked half smile.
An elderly man and woman on TV were talking about their son's last minute on American Airlines Flight 11. His voice cracked; she tried discreetly to wipe her eyes.
Floods...hurricanes...of emotion racked my body.
My son...MY SON...your son...your daughter are giving everything they have to see to it that this never happens again.
My son...your son...your daughter are enduring separation from loved ones, interminable yelling, sleepless nights...some are "broken" and doing everything in their power to heal quickly so they can be among those who call home with: "I'm a sailor."
Dear God...please protect our babies as they become men and women who have a yearning to protect us and future generations from the atrocities that afflict so many countries...that affected ours such a few short years ago. Help us never forget...yet help us never know the pain felt by grandparents, moms and dads, and children as they watched those planes bearing their loved ones carry out the ruthless plans of demented souls.
Oh GOD...you know my heart...thank you for my children and for the children of so many other parents...please bless them as they strive to truly become a "global force for good."