Is There Anything Else to Say?

It has been 11 years since life as we knew was turned upside down and inside out.  

11 years.

Sometimes it is hard to believe.

I was sitting at my desk, trying to think of what to write.  The posts for this day seem to get to me in a manner I never expected.  

I can't say I understand.  I don't understand why.  I don't understand what the families were put through and what those quiet moments mu st be like today.  As fearful as we all were, I still can't understand.  I can't understand the sheer horror experienced by the spouses of those bravely trying to save those they could and to comfort those they could not.  The momentary glimpse I got with the Temple shooting is nothing in comparison.  I can feel the apprehension in my chest every shift day as I kiss my husband good-bye, for that one more once.  I "know" he'll come back to me, but there is always that chance that he might not.  And that whispers in my ear periodically.  But he does come home to me.  

All of my children will know their father.  How many 9/11 babies only know the stories?  How many will never know the whole story?  What do I say to my kids?

Do I say I am sorry to those whose lives will never be the same because of that one moment in time?  Sorry that you will not have your Daddy to walk you down the aisle.  Sorry that "Always Kiss Me Goodnight" will never be again.  Sorry that your child was taken from you far too early.  

I can say "Thank You", but to whom?  To the families that have fought through the heartache and pain?  To the 343 who were simply amazing.  FFs are often the ones running in while everyone else is running out.  But this time, many of them knew this would be their last call.  And they went in valiantly to help, to comfort to be firefighters.  To the NYPD who tried to keep some idea of sanity at probably the most insane moment of our brief history, even though they too knew the costs?  To the nameless victims calling home to comfort the people they, at that moment, knew would be grieving the lives lost far too soon??  To our military forces and their families who have fought bravely to ensure we are safe in our own backyards?  To Paul Gill of Engine 54 whose name graced my husband's gear at last year's memorial?  To his family who have been so gracious in their correspondence with me?  Who do you thank?  Does it mean anything??  Does it help??

FF Paul Gill, Engine 54

There are no words.  We all know where we were.  We all know how we felt when the pit in our stomach dropped.  We know and have shared our stories over and over and over.  Our stories have been heard, but what about the stories of those we have lost?  Some of theirs have made their way to documentaries and memoirs, but some are forever silenced.

The only words I have are

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