When the tower collapsed, I was in the city center instead of Ground Zero, and I would still be touched by 9/11 memories or anniversaries. The impact of the event itself was not so great (because I was a few miles away from it, watching the reverse mushroom cloud of the tower collapse from the south-facing skyscraper window).
Rather, it is the memories of destruction, the smells and sights (flowers, pictures) of the city center that attended meetings several times a week, and of course all the sadness. From St. Patrick to Fifth Avenue, there are multiple funerals going on every day, lasting for several months.
I remember that the surviving firefighters and policemen gathered in cafes and bars later; the sound of bagpipes; commuters read the New York Times “Introduction to Courage” on their way to work every day, sobbed on the train for several months; lost two brothers Colleague; At the funeral of an acquaintance, their 8-year-old son handed over a folded American flag and screamed: “I don’t want this-I just want my dad. I will never see my dad again. “It’s absolutely devastating.
Experiencing the grief of others on such a large scale made me feel powerless on the one hand, and very angry/retaliated on the other. I now understand the cycle of blood feud and revenge better than ever. – legal tender