Tragedies and The Little Things

 

September 11, 2001. December 14, 2012. April 15, 2013, April 19, 2013.

There are dates that define us, days we will never be able to erase. I was just 8 years old when the attacks on the World Trade Towers occurred. Mr. Huber was checking our math sheets over with his hand lying on the side of his hip and the intercom made the announcement. I rode the bus home without any idea of what I was about to see at the house. My parents in disbelief, on their knees in the living room, the water was boiling over the pot on the stove and every television had on CNN in each room with people crying on the streets of New York City. Those images are stained forever on my mind.

I had just turned in my final for a class on Blackboard and put on my Nautica Jeans fleece to go to my meeting with the Resident Director and then I got the text from Deanna. 27 people dead in Sandy Hook, including children. I ran back to my room immediately, my roommate jumped off of the couch at the same time after seeing it on his computer. The television went on and I fell to my knees. Mom told me about Anne the next day. I fell to my knees again. I guess now I understand how my parents felt when I saw them in the same position just 11 years earlier.

I had finished talking with my friend, Chris, he was pacing our other friend, Dan, in the Boston Marathon. He asked if I was ready, if I was coming. I hesitated to decide and ultimately, chose to let him go alone with him. I would cheer them on as they ran by. I watched many of my closest friends go by, in such joy and excitement to see the crowds cheering them on. It made you believe in the good in all of us when you saw it. I stood with my friend, Deirdre, as she waited for her sister and then she got a text. Explosions at the finish line. People ran, started crying, police yelling for us to get inside. My closest friends were there, passing that finish line. All I could do was get away.

They locked us in on that Friday morning, my roommates and I and the rest of the community were wondering how much more of this we could take. Scared was the only way you could describe the feelings that day. There was nothing more to do or feel, all we could do was wait.

Tragedies, people say, are always going to be a part of life. Whether you lose your grandmother, have your leg amputated, or are diagnosed with Cancer, tragedy can strike at the smallest and largest of magnitudes. The funny thing about tragedy is that we tend to remember so much more about it than the other events we experience each day. It is more defining; it consequently creates change in an individual, community, or nation that can never be undone. Because we understand that concept we are scared to imagine life after a tragedy. We can become feeble and believe that there is no way to operate and carry on beyond the scope of what has happened. Change can be good, yes, but in some cases in life, it can be unimaginable.

After recounting everything that has happened this week I am still wondering what it is that we take from all of it? Do we suck it up and embrace the change? Or do we hold on to the, “what could have been”? The only thing I have found solace in is that each of us who have endured tragedy remember all the little things prior to the incident and those immediately after it. I remember every word of my conversation with Chris when I was deciding to run or not. I watched sisters hold their composure to keep the other one stable as she was running. My roommate and I grabbed hands as we turned to each other the morning of April 19^th.

Yet, it is not good just to remember all of these little things and moments because you will continually associate them with the horror that you experienced on that day. What we have to do is make something of those little things that unites communities and people to their shared humanity. I want to remember so many new little moments at next year’s marathon. We’ll witness more parents cheering on the runners as they try to keep all their kids in line and not crying. Our law enforcement, our heroes will protect the streets more cautiously next year but nothing will stop them from cheering either. Friends will take more obnoxious pictures that will be laughed at in future years and runners will smile even bigger as they wave to their loved ones. Maybe I’ll run it next year, make a little thought into a larger reality.

The little things do indeed matter; we remember them in our greatest triumphs but also significantly, in our greatest times of loss and tragedy. But we can carry on; we owe those who lost their lives in such horrible tragedies at least that. Work as hard as you can because that is what everyone was doing in the World Trade Centers that day, learn as much as you can at school because that is what those children loved to do at Sandy Hook, and cheer as loud as you can for your friends and family always, that is what Martin, Lu, Krystle, and Sean did on Marathon Monday. Turn little things into resilient ones that honor both the past and acknowledge the present. In the end, the little things are actually the greatest. In the end, the little things will make for that better tomorrow. So, here’s to it.

-M

Questions and The Little Things

James Thurber once said that it was “always better to know some of the questions than to know all of the answers.” Yet, as humans we like to know all of the answers. I personally will attest to the fact that I get scared not having all of the answers or my life laid out right in front of me. Then again, I wonder what good would that be? Would life be worth living then? So just to get more complicated, all I did was answer my anxieties over not having the answers with even more questions. However, there is always beauty to be found in our inability to have all of the answers. One thing is for certain; if we can ask the questions we are inevitably amused and intrigued by the stories that come out of other people’s answers.

I know I have talked about Mema before and luckily for me, I got to spend some time with her over Easter holiday. While she shuffled the deck of her cards and started to lay them out to play solitaire, I looked at her and just started asking her questions. When did you and Papa get married? Do you remember the day I was born? What was your favorite childhood memory? The list went on but what I was noticing was that Mema did not have the answers either. Yet, this is not because she simply did not know but because her mind was getting weaker and her memory is beginning to fade. When she got frustrated with me asking her questions, something inside of me clicked.

We worry so much about not having the answers about our careers, our kids, or love and other things so much so that we forget the answers to questions we already do know. We can answer people about how many friends we have, how many camping trips we took, and that time when Dad cried watching Titanic (do not let him deny it). We are creatures of worry and constant insecurities about the answers to questions that we do not know. But, why is it so hard to find comfort in the life’s worth of answers to other questions that we already have?

Mema is now having trouble maintaining those old answers and hell, she still has questions herself too about old age and death. But, now she is finding herself with just questions and losing touch with all of her answers. It can be scary to see, especially as a grandchild. After talking with Mema, I took a longer drive home to go past the places where I found a lot of answers in life thus far. I visited my house on Cherokee Drive where I gained answers on adolescence, the high school where I found the answers in education, and I later hung out with my dog whose loyalty gives the reasoning to why our dogs are our best friends.

All I can say is that I definitely agree with Mr. Thurber, it is good to have some questions than to know all of the answers. Embrace the answers as they come, and know that eventually they will even if they are not in your favor. More importantly, when you do get the answers from experiences and memories, make sure you hold them close always. We may loose touch with them some day and then be left with nothing but questions as we age. Luckily, Mema knows the answers to some of my questions still; it just takes time to squeeze them out of her even if she claims she does not remember. Plus, she still knows how to give a good answer, with a lot of humor and frankness. I am glad we all learned that from her. Recognize that those questions do exist and let the answers to them come as they may but most significantly, share all the answers about your life that you already have. Your answers and stories may solve someone else’s questions. Treasure the little things and keep questioning. Here is to a better tomorrow.

-M