I don't want to forget. All I have left are the memories of the way they were and their last moments. It feels unreal
even though I've seen the empty skyline and Ground Zero firsthand. Each day I need an affirmation that yes, they are gone,
I didn't just dream it.
At first it was easy to get nuggets of news about progress at Ground Zero. In fact, each day
I was inundated with stories, in the newspapers, on TV, or from friends. I was told about survivors, horror stories, miracles,
sadness, and rescue efforts at Ground Zero. Connections to the Towers were around every corner I turned.
But as all
news grows stale, this too would take a back seat to the bombings of Afghanistan, anthrax, and even the NYC Mayoral campaign.
But I still hurt over their loss and hungered for more information about Ground Zero or any other factoids about the Towers
that could be gleaned.
So each day I sift through my own personal rubble: the TV channels, newspapers and magazines,
the Internet. I sift for anything that will keep the emotion of sorrow or tragedy alive. I need to hurt in order to make it
Some days I'm lucky and the nightly news will report bodies have been found and show, for a few brief moments,
Ground Zero and the rescue workers. Some days I'll come across an article in the newspaper about a 'miracle' at Ground Zero.
One such miracle was the locating of 500 photograph packets, all in-tact, in the underground Mall photo mart and the lady
(a survivor) who was now able to reclaim these photos of her now dead coworkers.
When the media brings me nothing I
go back and read through the magazines I have saved but not yet read that contain stories on the tragedy. Or I look over the
photos I took at Ground Zero. Some days I call a friend who I haven't seen since Black Tuesday and thus have a chance to talk
about "where were you that morning?".
I know in time I have to let go. But for now it's part of my daily life, like
doing that last check of the stove before I leave for work. If I don't I feel uneasy all day. If I don't connect with the
Twin Towers in some way each day, I feel an emptiness inside. For now, tragedy and sorrow are the twin towers of my mental
c 2001 Leona Seufert