Ground Zero

My Englishman and I traveled into Manhattan today to see the 9/11 Memorial at Ground Zero.  He booked the visitor passes on September 11th and we thought it fitting that the first available date was 9/11.  (In Europe, they put the date first, followed by the month.)

It was a picture perfect day as we set off, each with our own thoughts.  There was concern when we encountered bumper to bumper traffic approaching the GW bridge.  The Englishman maneuvered the Mini Cooper expertly between the tractor trailers and we were soon buzzing down the West Side Highway.  He attributed it to luck, I to prayer.

We approached the Memorial, passes in hand.  The line wove around like a snake as we neared the entrance.  There is security everywhere, but it is all very orderly.  Everyone, for the most part, is silent.  We guessed that the majority of people on line were tourists.  

Two things struck me as we walked around the Memorial.  When I first looked over one of the walls of names into the pool, there was this incredibly strong feeling that the water was being sucked down into the dark hole, in the same manner in which the Towers collapsed and were pulled into the earth. The second, was this almost palpable sense of quiet and of peace.

We found the names of some of the dozen men the Englishman knew who died that day.  I thought about them, and then found myself thinking about their mothers. I can't imagine the pain they have endured. One lost her only child, the other lost both sons.  

They did it right, we both said as we left.  That's how we felt.  It's right and it's fitting.

As we drove away, I commented, "It's been ten years.  I've just seen it and I still can't believe it's happened."  The Englishman said simply, "But it has."