I think I am supposed to write about this...
I want to say that I am jubilant. I mean, shouldn't I be? In a Law & Order sort of way? Shouldn't I have that moment where the camera pans in on me, my family, and then sweeps out when the jury hands down the guilty verdict?
But I'm not having that moment. I'm still numb. And it's not a regular numbness; it's a numbness with lots of ripples moving beneath the surface, just like this whole 9/11 fiasco has been from the start.
I'm trying to mouth the words, "I m glad he is dead." But I can't. That doesn't mean I'm not, but the wires in my brain have been crossed for so long now that all I am capable of doing is dropping into the third person again. And I watch me, and I watch the world. And somewhere inside I am left wondering how this all happened in the way it did.
But I do have one nagging thought. They have his body. But we'll never find my father's body. Something about that is, to me, a reflection of the injustice of all of this.
But I'm not having that moment. I'm still numb. And it's not a regular numbness; it's a numbness with lots of ripples moving beneath the surface, just like this whole 9/11 fiasco has been from the start.
I'm trying to mouth the words, "I m glad he is dead." But I can't. That doesn't mean I'm not, but the wires in my brain have been crossed for so long now that all I am capable of doing is dropping into the third person again. And I watch me, and I watch the world. And somewhere inside I am left wondering how this all happened in the way it did.
But I do have one nagging thought. They have his body. But we'll never find my father's body. Something about that is, to me, a reflection of the injustice of all of this.