Days of rememberance

There are days of the year that invariably make me reflect back on an earlier time. Some are good days, like my children's birthdays, or my anniversary.

And some are bad, like the day that my Dad died, or his birthday, which is coming up in just over a week.

Those are personal rememberances. But then there are national rememberances that effect every American.

When I was growing up, I always thought how odd it was that anyone old enough to remember when JFK was assasinated, always remembered exactly where they were when they heard. And then Reagan was shot when I was in junior high, and yes, I remember exactly where I was when I heard. And the Challenger shuttle exploded while I was in high school, and I remember exactly where I was when I heard.

And I remember well the Waco Seige, and the fire there, and then the day of the Oklahoma City bombing.

And then there is today. 9/11. A day that I will remember, in excruciating detail, until the day I die. While I still remember the moments that I heard the news of those other national disasters, with 9/11, I remember the entire day. In painful clarity. Was it the magnitude of the disaster? Was it the feelings of fear for my child that it invoked in me, then a relatively new parent? Was it simply the level of disbelief that such a thing would happen here, in a land where we have always felt mostly insulated from such disaster?

I don't know exactly. I do know that today, as I do each year, I look back and reflect on that day, and lift up a prayer for those who lost loved ones. I hold my boys a bit closer as they go off to start their day, and give them an extra kiss and squeeze as they come home safe, at the end of the day.