Today was the 10th anniversary of September 11th, and I haven't really been able to absorb that at all. Actually, in truth, I have not let myself. I spent the weekend in the city (Cody had his housewarming party), and Saturday night, Jenna, Hope and I were walking home with some takeout when Jenna stopped walking, and, pointing up and across the street said, "Look."
I looked up and saw the two blue beams of light where the towers stood that I have now seen in person two years in a row rising above the row of buildings on 5th Ave. The sky was just darkening to a really serene dark blue, and it was getting increasingly cloudy. The clouds almost made for a sort of ceiling for the beams, except that they were patchy, the effect being that they served more as reflectors for the light than obstacles. They looked so close to where we stood, even in Brooklyn.
But that's really the only moment this weekend that I let myself go to that place in my head where I remember what actually happened that day and let myself feel in my gut that sick feeling that I'm sure is just a fraction of what so many people felt all weekend, and what some feel with every day that they don't get to spend with a loved one they lost.
I fully realize that choosing to avoid all media coverage and the consequential deluge of sadness that this day brings is a luxury that a lot don't have, and what's more, that it's somewhat selfish. But I just couldn't bring myself to go there today. I think I'm just so anxious about my PET Scan on Wednesday that self preservation is kicking in and I'm really trying not to lose it.
Though it should be noted that my chances of not losing it are dwindling with each minute I spend trying to figure out how to articulate myself here, so it might be time to call in a night.
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