Never Forget.

It's a phrase I saw a lot today; it is 9/11.  17 years ago, the unthinkable happened and today, we still remember that day as vivid as we recalled our steps of yesterday.  We remember where we were, what we dropped, to tune in with the world.  We remember the horrifying images, the chilling sounds of grief across the airwaves.  We remember how we stood still in awe; struck with intense feelings, the fear invaded our homes.

This post is not about 9/11, but all day, I wondered why it is we are compelled to remember such moments...moments that happened so long ago, moments that set our world on a tilt?

Tomorrow was one of my 9/11 moments.  In fact, it was a moment that set off a chain of traumatic events for me and while the people in my corner, of my little world looked on, it likely meant nothing to them.  Not as much as it meant to me...still means to me. They probably can't remember what they were doing the morning of September 12, 2017.  They probably don't know where they stood that morning.  It was probably a morning like any other to them.  To me, it was something different.

So, I am remembering, in every cell of my body how I quaked and shook like a last Fall leaf clinging to a thin branch.  I remember watching the distress in his eyes, the single tear that fell to his flushed cheek.  I remember where I stood beside his bed...on the teal square, set into the vinyl floor.  I remember how small and tight the curtained room was.  I remember feeling my own heart skip a beat or two.  I remember the face of everyone who entered that holy space and how I prayed for each of them. I remember how I greeted the unseen angels I only hoped had shown up to guide the skilled hands that would touch my son.  I remember holding a kiss between my lips as I whispered 'I love you' because those were the only words I could find in that moment, as they wheeled him down the corridor to the suite where they would cobble his heart back together.

Tomorrow is Sam's 1st birthday with his new heart parts and pieces.   I will not forget, ever hearing that all too familiar beep after surgery.  The steady 60 bpm.  It was the sound of renewed hope and faith.  It was a comforting sound.

I don't know why I remember these sad moments.  I don't know why my body holds the memories as if it was happening all over again. 

Positive and negative things are processed in different parts of the brain.  Negative events and emotions involve more thinking.  They are never part of our plan, our happy ever after.  It takes a great deal of focus, thinking and pondering in order for the brain to make sense of negative things and put it into context.  Positive events are what we live for isn't it? So it requires far less work for the brain to process because it is entitlement program we should receive just for participating in life...right?

It's just human nature to remember the bad more than the good.  Maybe the remembering is our white flag we wave above our head, a surrender to what is, a token of surviving such a thing.  Maybe the remembering comes with a quiet voice that says we could do it again if we had to.  Maybe remembering holds the seeds of becoming, growing, withstanding.  Maybe all those memories, for good or for bad are embedded with holiness, sacred holy memories when Heaven stood, not far off and watched with you, the miracles that fell all around from above.


  1. It makes sense to me; our spirits are housed in our bodies, so our physical responses to stresses are linked to those stresses in our bodies.


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