I don't know about you, but some of the mood from the commemorations of 9/11 still echo with me. Newscasters talked about the new memorial to be built, probably before next year's anniversary. I actually think they should leave it as it is. The vast emptiness of Ground Zero fittingly commemorates what happened that day: loss. Loss of so many, many lives. Loss of our naive assumption that within the shores of the U.S.A., somehow we were guaranteed safety. That false security can't be recaptured, any more than those who died so tragically can rise from the dead.
Emptiness is what overwhelms us in the face of loss … and that doesn't go away. Nobody ever "gets over it" when a loved one dies. When that individual's physical presence is gone, something precious is gone from our lives. In the beginning, aching grief deafens us with its roar. Eventually it may settle into a sort of background noise, but it remains with us.
Really, that's appropriate. Our remembering and missing those individuals demonstrates the lasting memorial in our hearts. When we remember, we celebrate their life and how they enriched our own.
I probably think of my mom and dad more often now than I did when they were alive. Before, we were separated by miles, but they were there. As the years go on, more and more I appreciate who they were. I realize how much of who I am is because of who they were. I wish I could tell them that. …
Today I attended the 90th birthday celebration of a friend. She's a writer, too, and still writing, still having her poetry published. About one hundred friends and relatives came from far and near to celebrate this smiling, gracious woman of deep faith. I thought how wonderful it was that she was alive to hear and be blessed by our words of love and praise.
For not one of us knows whether we'll make it through the day … any day. Neither can we predict how long our spouses or our children will live. Even if we live alone there's someone we would miss if they were gone, someone who makes us smile and go on in a happier mood.
Are we telling them so? Do they know they matter to us?
When we think it, we need to say it. Believe me, I know the truth of those words. Several times I've postponed doing just that. To this day I regret that I didn't simply say the words. While I was waiting for the "right time" and the "right words," friends and family members died. I know now I didn't need eloquence or perfect timing. Those dear ones would have loved to hear my awkward stammering, because–and this is the point–they were alive to hear it.
Right now I can think of a couple of folks like that who would be blessed by my words or by a note from me. How about you? The good news is that so long as we–and they–keep breathing, it's not too late.
We may not have another chance. Tomorrow may never come. …
Here's to saying it now!
Lenore
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