We don’t move through the grief. It flows through us and our relationship to it changes. It never leaves us – it just changes. I learned that a long time ago.
September 11 2001.
Chase and I listened in silence to the bell toll in New York. We both sobbed as two children talked about their father. Daddy lost in the rubble. Daddy who played with them. Gone.
I worked for United Airlines for 10 years. I love that airline to this day. I love the aircraft, the smell of the work and my co-workers. I watched as evil took one of the most beautiful pieces in my life, 250,000 pounds painted blue with an American Flag and United Airlines symbol, Boeing 757, and wrecked havoc, death, and loss on everyone in the world. Yes, it was in the United States of America but people from all over the world died.
I watched. I waited. I know exactly how many aircraft are in the air at any given moment. I know over 30,000 people that are working in the air RIGHT now. Another 757 hit the ground. Warriors that fought back and gave their lives so that more wouldn’t lose theirs. American Airlines lost their innocence the same way.
Losing the Towers was enough grief. However, the grief that I felt at that moment, was knowing that my co-workers were used as innocent weapons. Knowing how they must have felt. Knowing that an industry that I love, and still miss, collided with the Devil himself.
To those Flight Attendants, Pilots, and Passengers – I remember you. I grieve for you. You were brave and valiant. You are Heroes.