Five Years
Five years ago today, I was one week into a new job in a centre tangentially related to emergency response. The television was kept on, in case one of the emergencies we dealt with was on the news. So when a plane flew into the World Trade Center in New York City, we were all there, glued to the screen.
Five years ago today, we watched the second plane fly in. We saw the towers fall in real time, saw people running panicked in the streets, heard rumours of downtown Toronto office buildings being evacuated. Normally our phones rang off the hook, but that day they were silent. When one did ring, and we answered it, the voice on the other end would say, “Did you see? Do you know? What’s happening?”
Five years ago today, when the second plane flew in, when the second tower fell, I thought, the United States is going to war. They’ve never been attacked on their own soil and not gone to war.?‚?
In the five years since, I got pregnant and then became a mother. I willingly brought a child into a world that holds miracles and joy and opportunity for some, and unimaginable brutality for others. Does this make sense? I still don’t know. As I planned the pregnancy, and then the birth, and then watched my daughter grow, 8,587 Afghan troops, 3,485 Afghan civillians, approximately 42,000 Iraqi civillians (some estimates put this number as high as 200,000), 3,000 American soldiers, and 450 coalition soldiers have also been killed, for a total of over 57,000 people, not including the wounded. That is the equivalent of a WTC attack every three months for five years.
My daughter has lived her entire life in a world at war.
Last week, I caught part of a funeral for a Canadian soldier killed in Afghanistan, in a mission that is looking less like peacekeeping and more like war by the day. This soldier left behind a wife and two sons, one 13 and one 11. When the younger son approached the hearse to put a flower on his father’s casket, his face cracked and he cried, and I sobbed. For him, a young boy who will have to grow up without a father; for his family, for his father; for the?‚? three thousand?‚? people who died in the original attacks, and for the fifty-seven thousand who have died since then, as much the victims of the terrorists as anyone who stood in the WTC that day five years ago and had to decide whether to jump or burn. And for their families, their children, their spouses, their partners, their parents, their siblings, their friends, their cousins. For the wounded and disabled, and for those whose bodies are whole but whose minds have been broken.
Today is not Remembrance Day; but I will take time anyway to think silently of those who have already been lost and those we have yet to lose, on all sides. Today I will ignore the political browbeating of both sides, and think simply of the human toll, the sheer loss. For one day, for this anniversary, I will not think about whether the war is right or wrong, the response justified or not, the objectives met or failed; for one day, I will grieve.
Tags: News-&-Politics, terrorists, war Comments (3) |

Posted
September 11, 2006 at
7:28 am by




Posted
September 4, 2006 at
4:12 am by


