Today was the first time that I visited the Pentagon Memorial. The memorial for those that died in the plane and in the Pentagon on September 11, 2001.
This memorial actually applies to me more than any memorial on the National Mall....
I lived through that day. I would have been in that spot if I hadn't delayed my morning walk to watch the breaking news about the towers getting hit by terrorists.
The same chills go up my back as they did that day. That morning I had the distinct impression that I would remember that day the rest of my life. And, I have.
In the days and weeks (and perhaps months) afterwards, I experienced what post-traumatic stress is and appreciate how deeply it can effect people that go through multiple "September 11th experiences" in their lives.
To this day, I still pause at almost every airplane that flies over my head...especially when I'm watching near the Pentagon or National Mall.
Today I had a special moment...
In the rows of what can only be referred to as benches, I found the bench of Brady Kay Howell. He was a member of our congregation at church. He lived in the same apartment complex (Riverhouse). As saw him swimming with his wife at the pool just a few weeks before and only knew them through a few salutations.
However, Brady worked in the Pentagon and on that day he didn't come home. And, not the next day and not the next.
It was assumed he was one of the victims and his wife began that process of moving forward with arrangements as family and friends poured into town to share in grief.
I sat at Brady's apartment for an afternoon answering calls from the press and reflecting on life. Right after I left the apartment, officials came bearing something that was identified as belonging to Brady.
He had died in the crash/attack.
Some people at the Pentagon had left meetings briefly for a restroom break or to run and errand. Those that stayed were killed. Or, some were in that wing only for a brief moment for a special task and were just in the wrong place at the wrong moment.
Brady had been in an email trail in the hour before with a friend in the congregation. Conversation back and forth through email and then boom - life ended.
When I came up on Brady's bench I suddenly started to cry. A very small cry, but it was a relief. I was here in that spot where it all happened. I had seen it from my 12th story window...at least within a few seconds. I had no idea at that time that anyone had died.
I can't even remember the weeks after it - flags everywhere, re-telling stories, trying to remember what I saw, walking over to the Pentagon every few days to get as close as they would allow, creating conspiracy theories, watching planes moving in missing man formations fly over Arlington cemetery, everyone pausing to watch each airplane that took off from Reagan National Airport...
It is sad that I knew people that were influenced by what happened that day, but it is one memorial where I can walk up to a bench and see the name of someone that lived by me, worshipped in the same place that I did, and ... where I personally sat in the apartment of the person while awaiting to hear the final word on his life on this earth.
It is a humbling experience and I feel gratitude for having yet another day to change, grow, and progress.
