There Is Only One Story

The same exact day that a widow now calls into work and lays in bed for hours; because if not for this day thirteen years ago she would still roll over and find next to her a man that she had lilt her life with, a man she loved and cherished with every fiber of her soul. A mother now takes the long way home so she doesn’t have to drive by her son’s old apartment anymore. Her biggest regret is pushing him to move out and pursue an adult life.

If not for that, her baby wouldn’t have become a volunteer fireman on the side of his college career after moving out. She would give anything to be able to yell at him for playing too many video games and leaving the toilet seat up, just one more time. What about the children who send balloons to heaven on Mothers and Fathers Day? The fact that Osama Bin Laden is dead will never change the countless men and women who went into a building and ran up stairwells as that same building fell on top of them.

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Prejudices against Muslims and Middle Eastern natives will never heal the parents who put flowers on their child’s grave every year for his birthday. Making misery out of tragedy will not mend the brokenhearted. Each human who witnessed, experienced, or became victim to September 1 1 2001 , has their own story, their own way of mourning. But, why do we mourn? Why do we fly our flag especially high on this day? Because our country was struck by a conflict we thought was unbearable. And although we will never be the same, I think we will be okay.

With that, I believe our country focuses too much on finding the answers to those questions. Who did it? Why? Where were they from? How did they manage? But to me, the events of September 1 1, 2001 are the reason stop and pray for the mothers who lost their sons. I keep the men who suffer post-traumatic stress because of their bravery on that day in my thoughts. Although not very person can possibly be accounted for on a personal level, maybe it is time we as a country stop thinking about revenge and start thinking about compassion.

If not for this day thirteen years ago, a young woman getting married would have her father to walk her down the aisle. In the grand scheme, there are thousands of stories behind that horrific day. Many of which we know nothing about. But, to each victim, each family, each bystander, there is only one story. The story of how a wife was supposed to come home from work but she didn’t, and now on that day, that is all her Cubans thinks about. And the more gruesome story of the man who was caught on camera, jumping out of a window to escape burning to death.

For some, it is a day to wear red white and blue or watch the specials on n. ” (and shed many tears). But for the boy whose dad will never get to see him graduate, there is only one story, his story. I don’t remember this day thirteen years ago. My mom says was in school and she came and got me right when she heard the news. She called my dad at work too and made sure he was alright, because then it was unknown that our area would be left untouched.