He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the
heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God. Aeschylus, Greek tragic
dramatist
It has been a decade since that horrific day, but it will take eternity to comprehend unspeakable
loss. Grief is a deep wound, much like a burn, that can heal with time, but is never the same again. Individual stories of
love, sacrifice and courage have emerged from the ashes of 9/11. These accounts show us that healing (with scars) does occur,
in its own season, in its own way.
Interregnum
By Helen Duke Fike
The span between life and death
Can be as quick and sudden
As
a puff of wind
That blows out a candle.
But the candle does not suffer
After darkness comes.
It is the
person
Left in the dark room
Who gropes and stumbles.
Pass to thy Rendezvous of Light,
Pangless except for us--
Who slowly ford the Mystery
Which thou hast leaped across!
I Felt
a Funeral in My Brain
I
felt a funeral in my brain,
And mourners, to and fro,
Kept treading, treading, till it seemed
That sense was
breaking through.
And when they all were seated,
A service like a drum
Kept beating, beating, till I thought
My mind was going numb.
And then I heard them lift a box,
And creak across my soul
With those same boots
of lead, again.
Then space began to toll
As all the heavens were a bell,
And Being but an ear,
And I
and silence some strange race,
Wrecked, solitary, here.
Because I Could Not Stop for Death
Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped
for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.
We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And
I had put away
My labour, and my leisure too,
For his civility.
We passed the school where children played,
Their lessons scarcely done;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.
We paused
before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.
Since
then 'tis centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds
that blow.
I am the diamond glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you wake in the morning hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there, I did not die.
Your life was full of loving deeds,
Forever thoughtful
of our special needs,
Today and tomorrow, my whole life through,
I will always love and cherish you.
Author Unknown
To all those who suffer still, I send:
Deep peace
of the running wave to you.
Deep peace of the flowing air to you.
Deep peace of the quiet earth to you.
Deep
peace of the shining stars to you.
Deep peace of the Son of Peace to you.
Adapted from an Ancient Celtic Blessing
by
Fiona MacLeod.
This was the pen name of a man named William Sharp (c.1855-1905)
In other versions, the
last line reads:
Deep peace of the infinite peace to you.
Comfort and Support for 9/11 Survivors
McEneaney, Bonnie. Messages: Signs, Visits, and Premonitions from Loved Ones Lost on 9/11. New York: William Morrow, An Imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers, 2010. Hardcover edition.
Edited
Product Description from Amazon.com: When Bonnie McEneaney's
husband, Eamon, died in the attacks on the World Trade Center, she thought she had lost him forever. And then something unexpected
happened that would shake her to the core and reassure her that her husband was still with her. As she reveals in the book,
the author began to have experiences that convinced her that her husband, in spirit, was sending her signs, indeed messages,
that he was still present and watching over his family. A mother and
former business executive, Bonnie was always the rational one, and quite skeptical of the spiritual world and all that it
represents, but after talking to a number of other families and friends of loved ones lost on 9/11, she realized she was not
alone.
Numerous others connected
to the tragedy—from financial executives to stay-at-home moms—described their own experiences: premonitions, signs,
dreams, visitations, and communications through mediums and psychics. Bonnie began recording their compelling stories in a
four-year-long project, illuminating the power of love and the unbreakable bond love creates. Now,
in Messages, she shares these spiritual stories while weaving in her own heartfelt message of comfort and hope for
all those who are searching for their own deeper connections, proving that love and relationships can continue after death.
