Rev. Ted Huffman

The 15th Anniversary

There are several different ways to think about today’s anniversary. On the one hand, one might say, “It has been fifteen years since the attacks of September 11, 2001,” and express amazement at how quickly time has passed. There are images that are fresh in our minds and the dedication to never forget remains constant. A slight shift in vocal emphasis, however, renders the same statement as one that expresses the length of time and the distance from the emotions and experiences of that day.

They say that time heals all wounds, but there is little comfort in that phrase for those who lost a loved one in the attacks. In fact, in my work with the victims of sudden and traumatic loss, I have come to believe that there are wounds that never heal. You don’t get over the loss of a loved one - you get through it, but not over it. You survive. The loss remains forever. I think that any competent grief counselor would understand that there is an intensity of emotion for those who were close to the events of that day that will remain with them for the rest of their lives. For them fifteen years is nothing. And yet, for them, the simple fact that the world has gone on for another fifteen years must be a source of some amazement. For fifteen years they have grieved.

One area of interest for me is the process of passing on the information and emotions of the event to a new generation. Fifteen years means that all of the children in our elementary and middle schools were born after those events. Very few high school students today have any direct memories of that day. They know of the events from the stories of parents and the lessons of teachers. For them 9-11 is already a second-hand event.

It is the dilemma of every generation. The intensity of the present has a different quality than the telling of the story. The world pledged to never forget the horrors of Nazi concentration camps and the extermination of six million Jews in an attempt at total genocide, but each year there are fewer and fewer original eyewitnesses. This morning I read that Greta Zimmer, the woman kissed by a sailor in the iconic photograph marking the end of World War Two has died at the age of 92. She was 21 when that picture was taken. Within a few years, none of the veterans who served in that conflict will still be alive.

I don’t expect the world to forget. Still, I have intense memories of first-hand reports of that war that my grandchildren will not share. They will never meet those people or hear those stories the ways that I did.

Pledging to never forget makes an assumption about the quality of our memories that is probably inaccurate. We have relatively little understanding of the kinds of brain disorders that result in memory loss. We are surrounded by people who suffer from different forms of dementia that rob them of their most cherished memories. We can pledge to remember, but we cannot prevent ourselves from forgetting.

There is a unique echo to the attacks of September 11, 2001, however. Our country has responded to those events by engaging in a war on terror that has been, in part, wars in specific countries against specific governments as well as attacks against individuals in other countries. On October 7, 2001, the United States went to war in Afghanistan. Although technically US combat operations in that country ended in 2014, there remains a residual force in that country that is supposed to be withdrawn by the end of this year. then, on March 20, 2003, a “shock and awe” bombing campaign overwhelmed Iraq and U.S. forces swept through that country. The last of U.S. combat troops were withdrawn from that war in 2011, but for the people of Iraq, the conflict and hardships are far from over.

The Afghanistan and Iraq wars produced a huge number of severely injured veterans. Survivors bear permanent brain injuries, amputation of limbs, and other permanent life-altering injuries. Like other wars, these wars will leave deep scars and lives deviated by psychological injuries as well. Since the attacks of September 11, 2001, roughly 22 veterans have died by suicide per day. We lose our veterans to suicide at the rate of about one an hour.

The deaths, the injuries, the pain, the grief - these are not over. They did not stop when the attacks ceased and the dust cleared.

The families of the initial victims of 9-11 have a memorial, located on the sites of the two towers that were destroyed. Opened to the public five years ago, on the tenth anniversary of the attacks, the memorial features two voids that have the same dimensions as the destroyed towers. Each void is framed by walls of water that cascade into pools below street level, vanishing. The voids never fill with water. Bronze panels contain the names of those killed on September 11, 2001 and those who were killed in the first attack on the towers February 26, 1993. A grove of 400 swamp white oak trees complete the landscape. Two years ago, a companion museum was opened beneath the memorial plaza.

We will remember, but the intensity of our memories will not be constant. The impact of the events of one day will remain with us, but they will be only part of a long line of other days, some of which are equally or more intense for some individuals. For families who did not lose a loved one on 9-11, but lost a loved one in the wars that followed, there are unique days and anniversaries that bear tremendous impact.

So we note the anniversary today. And we know that time will pass. Before long we will notice the 25th anniversary and more to come. In time, we will be forced to trust the second generation with remembering. And, when all of the eyewitnesses have come to the end of their lives, the story will remain.

Copyright (c) 2016 by Ted E. Huffman. If you would like to share this, please direct your friends to my web site. If you want to reproduce any or all of it, please contact me for permission. Thanks.