Much will be done today to commemorate the lives lost on September 11, 2001. The story I’m going to share has a different focus than most and one I believe is worth your time.

Among those who died that day was the husband of a woman I knew casually and because our acquaintance was casual I was surprised when she called nearly six months later.

I’ll call her “Kerry” and we talked for hours, but the kernel I want to share is this.

She needed support to move; not just move on, it was too early for that, but to physically move.

Kerry said the reaction to “Craig’s” death changed when people found out he died in the attack. It changed from sympathy or empathy to an almost macabre interest in how she felt because he died “that way.”

Many seemed to feel that her politics should change (she is ‘liberal moderate’, her words) and that the event should be the main focus not only in her life, but also for her two young daughters and she didn’t want that.

Kerry said she called me because she remembered my saying that I found it sad that John Kennedy Jr.’s life seemed to be defined by his father’s death; that he never was able to become anyone other than the little boy who saluted at the funeral.

Kerry said that she didn’t want her kids to be forever known as “Kristy/Jenny-her-father-was-killed-in-the-September-11-attacks”

The problem was that many of her family and friends were horrified at how she felt. They acted as if losing Craig September 11 made his death a national symbol, not a personal tragedy.

We talked many times over the next few months and the upshot was that Kerry did move far away where no one knew them. When Craig’s death came up in conversation Kerry just said that her husband had died; she said when her daughters were mature enough she would tell them what happened, but not until they had the opportunity for a normal life—not one filled with other people’s baggage.

I think for Kerry I was “the stranger on the plane,” the uninvolved person to whom you can say anything because you will never see or hear from them again and I was honored to play that part.

The death of a parent is always tragic. I know; I was five when the driver of the car in which my father was traveling fell asleep at the wheel and drove off a mountain road.

The point I want to make today is that we don’t forget, but we do move on and as we move we grow and change.

No matter how horrendous the event we all have the ability to choose what defines us and what memories rule our lives.

Never allow others to force you into a role that fits their view of what should define you.

(This post also appears today at Leadership Turn)

Image credit: StarLight on sxc.hu

This entry was posted on Friday, September 11th, 2009 at 1:30 am and is filed under Motivation, Personal Growth. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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