Sunday, September 11, 2011

For the faces not seen and the names not known

I wasn't planning to write again until after the parade & jamaica - much to do and only so much time.

I am watching the memorial taking place in New York, New York. The names roll off the tongues of the family members as they read a litany of names, some of them saints, and all of them missed. There are names that connect with countries and continents near and far. For the most part the names are read in a rhythm that is governed by a need to be respectful.

There are those who, in the midst of sharing the names, reflect the hope secure in faith. There are others whose pain is still evident: the wound has not healed And a few for whom the wound seems to have festered. My heart breaks for them.

The media speak of the different groups who lost their lives on that day 10 years ago. We know the names of many of those in these groups, they are remembered for what they did and sometimes for who they were. Firefighters, Police, Clerics, and others who were in uniform are remembered for the profound bravery they displayed. Those that worked at the WTC are remembered, too.

As we think of all of those lost, I hope we remember others who wore different uniforms at Windows on the World, Wild Blue, and Greatest Bar on Earth. As well as those who kept the building clean and functioning well. Both they, and the folks whom they served, were working to provide their version of the American Dream for themselves and their loved ones.

We do not know the language the Falling Man heard when he dreamt the night before his death. We do not know what the waitress or the busboy heard when their parents spoke their name. We do not know if they lived in obscurity by default or by design.

We do know that they are gone and they are missed. They are remembered still.

Que descansen en paz/May they rest in Peace.

11 comments:

  1. So well stated Roberta - Thank you, Ruth

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  2. "We do not know the language the Falling Man heard when he dreamt the night before his death. We do not know what the waitress or the busboy heard when their parents spoke their name. We do not know if they lived in obscurity by default or by design."

    No one could have said this better, in any language.

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  3. Thanks. I was so moved by the dignity and the respect, even for those who were still hurting, that was displayed as family members recited the names of those lost.
    The Mexica (Aztecs) recognized several deaths. The first was when the body died and then when the spirit left the body. The last death was when no one remembered their name.

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  4. Roberta, I've just come back to read this again. If I didn't have a daily blog I wouldn't have blogged on 9/11. Everyone talks about it but not everyone has anything important to say. You do.

    I hope you don't mind if I linked to your post in mine, albeit a few days late.

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  5. I think that's why I like to visit cemeteries and read the old tombstones -- maybe it keeps the final death at bay.

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  6. There's a certain sort ironic vibrancy to remembering those who have passed on.

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  7. " We do not know if they lived in obscurity by default or by design."

    Beautifully expressed. I remember this aspect of the fallen towers and found it especially haunting. Are there remains whose DNA has never been accounted for?

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  8. I don't know/remember. I wouldn't be surprised if that were the case. I remember the story after story that was told about our truly noble first responders and of all the folks who relatively well to high paying jobs, but I did not hear until this last anniversary an acknowledgement of those who provided service and who are often overlooked.

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