(no subject)
I didn't get to write this yesterday, due to work.
It's funny how one day can change a life, or many lives like 9/11/01 changed ours. I can still tell you excatly where I was the morning of the attack, and what the topic of conversation was. My mom was working at the airport at the time too. I begged her that night to quit and go back to McDonald's, even though I knew she loved her job at the airport. Entertaining the thought of my mom working where she could be hurt just wasn't something I could live with.
I didn't actually get to see the news until my second block lesson (english), my first being orchestra and it was too early for the full blone coverage to grip anyone yet. I sat in my seat and watched the second tower (by that time) fall and fall again from the recorded footage. I hadn't even noticed that the seat directly to my right was empty, usually occupied by my best friend. It wasn't until Melissa (my friend) walked into the room some 20 minutes late, face tearstained and eyes red that the impact of all that happened on the eastern starboard hit home. I leaned over in my chair, my eyes finally torn from the T.V. long enough to ask Melissa what was wrong. She looked at me, new tears running down her face and proclaimed her parents were on United 93. Her grandparents had called her via the school to say they'd gotten a call from her parents on the airfone. They weren't coming back.
Not 10 minutes later (maybe it was longer, I don't really remember), the report of the crash in Pennsilvania came through.
I never cried so much as I had that day. Lunch was so hard, for all of us. Melissa cried on my shouder until her grandmother came to get her right after lunch at my request. Melissa was shaking so hard while she cried, I thought I could hear her bones rattling. I cried myself into sleep, and my teachers didn't seem to mind either. I found my way to the seminary building where I found an empty office, tearfully told my seminary brothern what had happened and fell asleep. I went home and put up the American flag that my parents had bought years ago and never put up, and put it up in our window. It has yet to come down to this day.
I waited 6 hours in line after school to give blood that day at the Red Cross, and went back three days later and gave again. I attended the funeral held here in Salt Lake for Melissa's parents, sans bodies. I think that was the night of the candlelighting. I remember sitting on the yard outside my condo with Melissa in a circle of candles and with two between us. We were joined by my ward throughout the night, leading to one of the most spirtual experiences of my life.
Five years later and I can't write this without crying still. That first week was the longest of my life, but one of the most rewarding. It's so good to see so many flags around still, and those who wear ribbons on 9/11. My uncle has served in Iraq, for nearly 3 years. He's now married, with a beautiful baby girl. I wrote him a letter his last Christmas there and said "I'm sorry that someone thought we deserved this. That you've had to be away so long." He wrote back "It's not their fault, Kimmy. I've forgiven them already. They tried to break us, but succeeded in making us stronger. As a country, and a family. I couldn't ask for more."
Thank you to all those who supported the troops, and let's remember the price we paid for the right to pray to our choice of God today. Some may think this is cliche to write, but it may be worse not to.