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Young people
stood on the overpasses and bridges waving the American flag in our
direction. Bridges and billboards hosted “God Bless America” signs in
blazing colors of red, white, and blue. Church bells tolled. We felt the
exhilaration of patriotism as never before.
The greeting
Gary and I received as we drove into the Twin Cities raised goose bumps
on my arms. I felt both pride and sobs simultaneously, deep in my
throat. We couldn’t resist wanting to be part of the fever that spread
wildly––the fever that shouted, “I'm proud to be an American!” We
stopped at several chain stores between Wausau and the Cities looking
for an American flag. None could be found, and I “kicked” myself for not
unpacking the Fourth of July decorations to find one before we left
home. Stores were “sold out” but assured us that shipments would be
coming; and we were not the first to ask. I stood in the aisle of a
Kmart store watching the national memorial service on a row of
televisions in the electronics department. I was surrounded by images of
people, dignitaries, and bereaved––all stunned by what they were
experiencing. Tears rolled down my cheeks. What words could be said that
can comfort those hurt by senseless death!
The tragedy
of September 11, 2001 registered a sad bookmark in time in my memory.
How could anything have prepared us––as individuals––as a nation, for
this event? We will never forget.
I use the
word “bookmarks” to indicate a beginning and end of an “era”. They serve
as a flag or reference point in my mind of life-changing events. Some of
my bookmarks are often revealed as “before my son (Chad) died” and
“after Chad died”.
Bookmarks can
occur with both positive and negative experiences. (Examples of other
bookmarks are: “Before I quite smoking,” “After my wedding,” “When I
got sick,” or “After my divorce,” and “Before September 11th.”
Bookmarks
change the way we think, act, and respond to future events. They can
create either negative or positive change. Through the experience of
grief, what we were and who we were before is forever changed. What we
become tomorrow is molded by the grief we are experiencing now. We may
continue to evolve as we share the sensitivity and experiences of other
mourners and reach a new plateau––one that makes us ponder, “Who am I
now?”
In my journey
through grief and especially since the September 11th tragedy, I’m
convinced that who we are is formulated by the bookmarks (significant
events) in our memories. We register these bookmarks at the onset of the
event and they evolve as we search for meaning to the questions: “Where
was I when this happened?” And, as we begin to work through our grief,
we discover that we have changed. We then evaluate, “How has this event
changed me?” “Who am I now?” These questions create paths for future
behavior.
Where was I
when it happened?
On November
22, 1963, I was coming out of the lecture hall and heading for the
student union at the university when I heard about the terrible
tragedy––John F. Kennedy was shot and killed.
As students,
we moved instinctively to the nearest television. People were sobbing
while others were standing in line to make phone calls (yes, no cell
phones!) to family and friends to gauge their reaction. Some just stood
with eyes glazed in disbelief. We all listened to the “Special News
Bulletin” on television wondering how this could happen in America. Our
reactions were those of anger, disbelief, betrayal, and vulnerability. I
bookmarked that event and the student union in my mind as reminders of
this awful day.
There were
other days like that I clearly remember: Waco, The Oklahoma City
Bombing, and now the World Trade Center, to name a few. And how could I
ever forget where I was when I received the news that Chad, my son, was
dead. It’s every mother’s nightmare.
It was a
Friday evening––the Friday after Easter, April 16, 1993 at 9:20 p.m.
Gary and I were home watching a movie when I answered the phone. It was
a call from one of Chad’s friends and he said those unforgettable words.
“Mrs. Zastrow, I think Chad is dead.” This is the kind of nightmare we
all shared around the world on a much broader basis as the result of
terrorism on 9-11-2001. We will never forget where we were when we heard
the news. A new bookmark in memory.
Most of us
reference major events by where we were when they occurred. We create a
visual image that, good or bad, makes it easier to recall the event.
It’s also common to scan our recollection of memories from the days
preceding the event to see if there was anything that might have
“tipped” us off to the event.
Premonitions:
And then I
think about premonitions. In definition, the kind of premonition I’m
referring to is a “feeling” that something is about to occur (future
tense). The feeling may occur one or more times. The premonition may
also come in the form of a “gut feeling”, a dream, a random thought, or,
for some, the affirmation that what just occurred was not a surprise.
And these happen to normal people. There is nothing supernatural about
them.
We all
witnessed hollow faces, tearful eyes and empty expressions of the
families and survivors of September 11th. I wonder how many had
premonitions that altered something they did that day. We’ve heard the
stories of a few. How many were not at work that day in the Trade Center
because of appointments, tardiness, or vacation? And, on the other hand,
how many changed their plans and got on the plane or showed up at the
Pentagon or Trade Towers unplanned? How many were prepared for the least
likely of events or for death? How will this tragedy change the
survivors? How will it change who they are a year, five years, ten or
twenty years from now? How will it change us as Americans?
I had an
overwhelming obsession before Chad died to finish an American flag quilt
for Jenny and him. I can’t explain why because I meant to give it to
them much later. I knew I had to finish it. Also before Chad’s death, I
had very distinct premonitions of impending doom for months before the
event. I didn’t know “who” or “what” was going to happen, but I knew
that something was going to happen. And it wasn’t a good feeling. I also
knew that the premonition involved death.
Who am I now?
It’s been
eight years since Chad died; and I know that I have changed. There is no
doubt. Looking in the mirror, it may be hard to see the difference in me
from then until now. The hair may be a little grayer and the wrinkles
and pounds, a few more. On the outside, I look quite the same.
On the
inside, that’s where I’m different. I’ve learned that life can change in
a moment––with or without notice. I understand that I am as susceptible
to change as the next guy. I have “forgotten dreams” replaced with
“maybe moments”.
On the
inside, I understand the word “friend” and I’m fortunate to have made
many new ones. I value my commitments and have learned to say “no”. I
readjust my priorities sometimes after tense moments of fighting the
inner ego that says “you have to” or “you need to”. I can be truer to my
own self. In the need to create continuity in life, I try to build
bridges where there once were many gaps. Although it seems like I’m
often unprepared for a single event, I’m more prepared for the grander
event of all.
This tragedy
was another “death” experience that would change me. I thought about the
terrible sorrow and forced life change that was affecting thousands who
were personally affected and perhaps, millions around the world who were
touched vicariously. Death is never easy, but combine it with “tragic
circumstances” and it contributes to complex grieving. The stark reality
of how this tragedy would affect us in the future and change our
lifestyle as Americans was a grim thought.
The surge of
patriotism brought back only greater memories of Chad. Our family tree
has a strong history of patriots, wars and duty, and military men. In my
mind, I could picture Chad. He was engaged in Army advanced training in
the Mohave Desert at the onset of Operation Desert Storm. At the age of
nineteen, his spirit and determination to be part of the military
challenge was almost frightening. I pictured him now in a similar
situation and knew, without a doubt, that he would have been there ready
to do his part. He believed in his country and always demonstrated his
patriotism. I remember in high school how he mounted a 3 x 5 foot
American flag on a pole in the box of his truck and proudly drove it to
school. I remember how, in his senior year, he drove a National Guard
Jeep to homecoming. He was dressed in Army fatigues. I remember how he
looked in one of my favorite pictures of him dressed that way.
After Chad
died, I remember my first and only trip to New York City and the burning
desire to see the Statue of Liberty. As I gazed on her beauty and
thought of all those who came her way, I wept. All of these are
bookmarks in time. Moments I will never forget.
Our
patriotism has reached the highest level in years. We display the flag
proudly around our homes and in our cars. We wear lapel pins that
indicate we are proud to be Americans! We sing “God Bless America” as
religions unite. We recite the Pledge of Allegiance remembering what our
forefathers had in mind when they fought to save our nation “under God
with liberty, justice and freedom”. We are blessed to be Americans. As
this surge of patriotism sweeps over the nation in the shadow of this
tragedy, let us continue to unite and––give thanks.
Nan
Zastrow is the Co-Founder of Wings—a grief education outreach ministry.
She is the author or
Blessed Are
They That Mourn and has written over 30 articles for Wings and
other grief magazines. She earned her certificate in death and grief
studies from the Center for Loss and Life Transition in May 2002.
Please
respect our “Reprint Policy”. The article appeared in the Winter 2001
issue of Wings. |
