14

She was but one of 2,996 innocent people whose lives were cut short by an act of terror so unspeakable in its scope that even now - 14 years later - it is difficult to comprehend.

Hers was a “soft” countenance and spirit – meaning that everything about her was kind, non-threatening, approachable - she was a perfect reflection of all that was good in humanity. She loved her family fiercely and was devoted to her parents. Those parents are dear friends whose lives have been ripped to pieces by the acts of monsters.

Her wedding to her gregarious, wildly successful fiancé was to have been early October 2002. By now there would likely be a child or 2 running around – she'd have made a wonderful mother, loving her children with a ferocity that is equal parts love and fear. Any child of hers would have been a much beloved niece or nephew and would have been deeply spoiled grandchildren. She was cherished by anyone who knew her. She had a thriving career – much sought after in the fields of real estate and finance. Her future was bright – filled with promise and surrounded by love.

The end of her life can be summed up in a few, meager sentences: Heather Lee Smith woke up at 5:00am on September 11, 2001. She kissed her fiancé good-bye as he snoozed and she grabbed a cab to Logan Airport. She went to the American Airlines counter to get herself on a stand-by waiting list where she was able to board Flight 11.

And just like that, Heather’s story ends. No more memories to be created.

The stories of nearly 3,000 other people ended on the same date – leaving a hollow place in the lives of so many. Think of how many people in your life would miss you should you leave them suddenly - think beyond your family, to your friends, coworkers, the guy at the coffee truck who always gives you a kind smile with your morning shot of caffeine. Is it 10, 20, 50, 100, 200 - likely more? Each one of us touches a few hundred lives in the course of our existence – multiply your own “number” by 2,996 – the number of actual victims of 9/11/01. It’s more than staggering isn’t it – all those people with a howling void in their lives.

Like so many others there isn’t a grave for Heather’s family to tend; no final resting place the family can visit for holidays, birthdays or no special day in particular; no place to leave Heather’s favorite flower - the humble sunflower.  No physical place to ensure she is never forgotten. For her parents and their family & friends there will be nothing more than a marble panel or granite sculpture at a public museum to mark the final resting place of their much loved daughter. They have their memories of a life cut short at age 30; her mother once said to me that the hijackers stole her future.

As I have said in years past – we talk of these things, these unpleasant things like the pain and suffering and terror of the passengers, the nightmares in the WTC when people jumped rather than be trapped when the buildings collapsed, the brave souls on Flight 93 who forced the hijackers to die never reaching their target – so that we remember. 2,996 lights were extinguished by pure evil and we must remember them; we must show great courage in remembering them, for the memories can be so painful.

But remember them we must. For their sake, and ours. We must remember the sacrifice they made unwillingly. We must remember those who perpetrated this crime against the innocent people of our country. We must remember the pure nature of the victims and the evil nature of their killers.

Remember them we will – as Americans we share the burden of grieving for the victims of 9/11/01 and their families. If we forget Heather or the other victims, or if we abandon their families & friends, we do so at our peril.

The Weekly Muse

What an absolutely glorious morning. Crisp air that hints at the coming autumn; bright sun bringing warmth without the harshness of summer's light. The last of the Hydrangeas in a small vase on the deck; fresh coffee on the table beside me. The Oracle, my gentle husband, curled up next to me.

On days like this - struggles seem very distant and all things seem possible.

Like the fingers of Michael Jones, passing so lightly over the piano keys, my spirit feels incredibly delicate yet as clear as the opening notes to the magnificent song above.

Life - has continued to kick me around more than I would like.  There are good days, like today, and I revel in them.  Like a cat giving cherished "bumps" to a beloved human, days like today are metaphorically bumped by my very soul.  I drink in the scents on the breeze - Lemon Grass from the deck plantings, Basil from the herb garden, the sweet smell of decaying plant life and the dampness from the deep woods behind me.

It all gives me hope that maybe, after 5 weeks of the deepest, darkest torment and pain of my life, the good days will finally outnumber the bad.

Because the bad - are bad. The put your head down and push through kind of bad. The days where you don't want to make eye contact with anyone because you know they will see into your heart; defenses are nil.  The kind of day when you go out to lunch with an old friend and insist that you sit outside on a very hot day so you can wear your sunglasses and the friend won't see the pain behind your eyes.

A succession of those bad days puts you down for the count in equal quantity.

But then a day like today comes - and you believe in the deepest places of your existence that the struggles you have faced with such courage - you really believe that you will overcome them.

With air this beautiful, that smells so sweet...how can it not be possible.