My mother and father couldn't agree on a house.
My mother was a city person and my dad was a country type of person. Somewhere along the way they met, got married, bought a house, and then had a couple kids. Something most people don’t actually know about my parents is their wedding anniversary.
They got married in 1999, two years before a date that would later become one of this nation’s worst tragedies. Out of all 12 months of the year, they decided to get married in September.
I personally hate September. It’s like the ultimate Monday for every kid nation-wide. This Monday just happens to be 30 days too long.
If you haven’t guessed yet, my parents got married on Sept. 11 in 1999. My sister had only been born months prior.
It’s been some weeks since the 16th anniversary of 9/11, but sometimes I forget that it’s a tragedy. I sometimes just remember it as my parents’ anniversary.
My mother doesn’t like flowers. She not a material kind of person.
But I remember my father always getting her red roses on their anniversary.
As a child I didn’t pay attention to the details of my parents’ everyday life. I was usually more worried about the couple of math questions I had for homework and the kids I played with on the playground.
But the date 9/11 was so widely talked about when we were in school, I was always so confused coming home to a bundle of red roses on the table.
For a while I just thought my parents were acknowledging the date, acknowledging that a tragedy had happened.
As a child, you don’t really understand what tragedy is. You’re far too innocent to grasp the fact that someone has the potential to hurt you.
It’s why kids are so trusting of others, becasue we aren't exposed to chaos and loss.
As a child I didn't not understand the great loss that had occured on Sept. 11th, 2001. But just this past year I had the opportunity to finally acknowledge such tragedy. The choir and band trip the past year was to New York City. The city is absolutely gorgeous, and the architecture of the buildings and the lights and people are something I could admire all day.
Because we were in the Big Apple, the band and choir groups both had the opportunity to visit the 9/11 memorial that is located in the basement of the new World Trade Center.
You could hear a pin drop in every room. I was surrounded by hundreds of other people, hundreds of others also trying to understand.
The sequence of events was in order, room through room. As you moved into the next room it was as silent as the other. There were pictures and videos, busted-up retrucks and equipment. There was a bloody shoe they found in the rubble, and a phone call to a loved one from one of the airplane passengers.
Every room was darker than the last. It’s the most tired I had been on the entire trip.
No one really talked, because you didn’t have to.
I think the one thing that got to me the most was at the end.
There were still missing poster signs, still emails, still reports. All of them looking for missing people. Some people never came back. Some were never found.
The reflection pool outside was also quiet. You could trace the names of people you had never met, and you could look into the flowing water within the pool. Most of us stayed silent.
I was barely a year old when 9/11 occurred, and I’m one of the last generations to be alive during that time.
Education about the event shouldn’t be tossed aside. While most people acknowledge the date and the people lost, they’ll never really understand the tragedy that occurred in New York City, 16 years ago, on Sept. 11. I don’t think I’ll ever really understand either.
Oh yeah, just some advice. Think really hard about your wedding date.