We Saw the World on Fire

Abstract

Just days before the second anniversary of the attacks of September 11, 2001, the remains of the final firefighter to die that day will be buried. This quiet event underscores the horror and heroism of that darkest of days. On that day we lost 2,792 fellow Americans in three separate attacks on the World Trade Center, the Pentagon and American Airlines Flight 193. We lost 343 firefighters on that day. The formal services at the sites of those attacks will have moments of silence at the times of the attacks and when the twin towers came down. Some events are so momentous they defy our words. Silence is the only appropriate response to moments that truly change our world. Like the silence that descended on us when all air traffic was halted. Let no music cover up the whistling of the wind and the fluttering of flags. Let us hear with ears truly open the sobs of yet-fresh grief. Of course the surface signs of our collective grief have faded. But the smaller signs of our bereavement remain, as they should. For the families who suffered direct loss, and for the people of New York City who saw the world on fire, the calendar has stopped at this haunting day. It will be September 11, 2001, in Lower Manhattan for a long, long time. Only the foolish pundits of pop psychology and the wise guys of phony bravado seek to ‘get over it and get on with life.’ Genuine wisdom knows it will take a lifetime for the human soul to absorb and respond to such an event. True courage understands that healing comes only from repeatedly addressing the wounds of the heart in a direct and respectful fashion. Public ceremonies have a way of reminding us we’re not alone in our grief. Like the survivors of the attack on Pearl Harbor, a public ceremony helps us titrate the mixture of grief, horror, rage and sheer numbness that would otherwise completely overwhelm our spirits. Public ceremonies provide a cross-