9/11. 2006.
Its been 5 years.
Each year it becomes a little easier to avoid seeing the images when your least expecting them.
What doesnt get easier, is stopping myself from feeling how I did when I woke up to that phone call from your mum, and turned on the TV, to that image.
5 years is not enough to stop it feeling exactly how i did for those 2 1/2 days.
Time heals all wounds they say, and I wonder how much time it will take for me to be able to hold myself together when I see that other image.
Its still raw and senseless to me. Im not sure that thats a feeling I want to go away. I dont know that I want to understand.
Funny how just 2 images encapsulate everything to me. Funny how they arent the ones most people cite as their defining moments of that event.
But then they werent waiting for you to phone home. They werent watching people jump, wondering if it was you. We felt every one of them as though it was you, then hope cruelly buoyed us with the hope it wasnt, only to watch you die again. And again. And again.
Ive never watched anything as closely as that tv screen, scouring each minute of footage in hope of glimpsing a familiar face.
Ive never watched a mother race so desperately for the telephone each time it rang.
Thomas, I miss you. And I still check in on your mum occasionally as asked.
