I write everyday, so today September 11th, I will write about that day 14 years ago. Not sure what to say. I have some resistance but writing about anything else does not seem right.
Of course the worst part of the ordeal was the lives lost. The beautiful vibrant young alive radiant lives that were taken that day never got to see what would have transpired for them these last 14 years. Never got to see their kids go from kinder to college, or see their lovers become spouses, or see their parents age or whatever things we all got to experience in this luxury of time. Because I was recently touched by the death of a family member, I am in the gift zone, the place where you experience just how precious it all is. That is the gift that death leaves for everyone left behind. Man, this life is such a precious gift, everything we have is so amazing and perfect and beautiful. My heart is filled with love and it inspires me to be a better person, to overcome my limitations and just habituate myself to the miracles that surround me.
The beautiful faces of the people we lost that day fill me with sadness but remind me of all I have to be grateful for, remind me that life is short and we do our best while we are here. I do not know what my path is or why, but I show up. One of my heros, Father Mychal Judge, the chaplin for the NY Fire department, died helping people at the World Trade Center that day. The day before he died he said "No matter how big the call, no matter how small, you have no idea of what God is calling you to do, but God needs you. He needs me. He needs all of us". (last homily: Sept. 10, 2001).