September 11 is my daughter's birthday. It is the tenth anniversary of
her 6th birthday. She does not recall any media images, only that her
mother could not stop crying. For a week. We had cake, but we put it
off.
On her actual day of birth in 1995, we both almost died in a
horrible horrible hospital. That obstetrics ward was closed down two
months after her birth.
Two weeks before September 11 I had been
diagnosed with high blood pressure at age 33. I had to take medication
for the rest of my life and was bummed. After watching people hold hands
as they jumped together to their deaths, and heroes fly planes into the ground
rather than into buildings with people, I felt blessed that I had a problem
that could be solved with a pill. And all my problems have had that
perspective ever since.
Every September I celebrate my
daughter's life, my own, and I ache for the families that lost so much
at the same time. It isn't ironic at all. Sorting good and bad to their
respective days diminishes them both. Tragedy makes birthdays important.
Birthdays help us live with tragedies. September 11 is a beautiful
birthday totally appropriate for a big hearted, loving human being like
Sophie Mancini who cares about justice and kindness . I wouldn't change
her birthday if I could.
1 comments:
Love this post.
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