What’s the Right Way to Mourn? Or…One Man’s Ceiling is Another Man’s Floor

Unlike me, my husband cannot stand to watch one minute of any of it. This  Nobody Wonders on the other hand, why I was so glued to the TV that I listened to every single name called off today of every single person killed. I saw every picture, heard every relative say things, like, “Thanks for the pennies!” and “Keep sending those dimes, Dad!” that when I missed the age of someone I was saying to myself,

“Wait…go back! How old was he?”

I was calculating in my mind that the average age was about 41, and more than 3/4 were men with wives and children. It seemed by casual observation that most of the foreigners were in the towers, and the police and firemen were generational and typical New Yorkers.

God…I LOVE New Yorkers. They also do a good job of not blinking. (One guy holds the record, I swear)

Another one of my friends in Florida, agreed with my husband.: “I cannot stand to watch any of it.” she said. “As soon as they showed the picture of people jumping from the buildings I turn it off.” This Nobody, on the other hand, was being inspired and reminded once again, just how noble the human being can be.

 Nobody Knows but clinical psychologists why there is such a big difference in the way people react to disasters and death. Is it genetic? I find it fascinating. Some people find the way to handle death is simply to ignore and go about their day. That’s my husband, that was my father, that is many of my friends. They do not spend the tears and emotions. And that’s maybe not a bad thing. It’s very common in every family to have at least one relative who refuses to visit the dying parent or grandparent. They treat even the thought of death like a getting root canal. It’s just how they deal with their own mortality.

And yet,  Nobody Remembers that most all of the people who lost loved ones that day, live each day with that lost person in their hearts and all their actions. They are kept alive and strong with their memories—as if the lost love one will walk through the door any minute. Many of them have use the event to do wonderfully great things for others.

So, I’m trying to decide if I was just a glutton for punishment, with my Kleenex…waiting for each memorial from some kid…wondering about all those horrible deaths, what was wrong with me? My husband moaned and got up from the table when I accidently turned on the news during dinner. Was this my way of being thankful that I was still alive? Was this my satisfaction that finally, the ordinary citizens, the real brave men, and hero’s that died that day get some TV time over the endless parade of politicians, from the mouths of the simple folks who knew and loved them?

Well,  Nobody’s Perfect— I admit it, I sat around and cried with every trembling tear from every broken hearted wife, child, brother, father, mother, and friend.
We saw more proof today that thousands of people were just that, on 9/11. Perfect, brave, and proud Americans.

Today was a big closure for all of us..sobbing hearts out here. I KNOW I’m not the only one. Am I? I’m leaning towards maybe a genetic slip of the tear gland…

And speaking of perfection: Paul Simon gave the most perfect rendition of “Sounds of Silence” at the memorial that he will probably ever do in his life. It was, note for sublime note, it was —perfect. It was a ceiling moment for him, and it put me right on the floor.

September 11, 2011 Posted by Joyanna Adams | disasters | 9/11, History | 3 Comments