Portrait of my father (revisited)
black marker on bond paper
7 x 9 inches
Barbara Muir © 2010
My father died on September 11, years before
the Twin Towers fell. So the day was filled with
sober memories for me before that horror.
Every year I talk to my mother about our father,
how dignified and caring he was as he died, how
valiant. He died of lung cancer, following years
of emphysema, he no doubt picked up as a seaman
in the navy, exposed to excessive radiation
through early radar, or from the few years he smoked
serious cigarettes.
On 9/11, 2001 I was driving to school on a beautiful
day thinking about my father, and planning to call
my mother when I got home. I was listening to
my own music -- it was the first day of a new term,
and I felt happy and optimistic about the work
ahead. I switched on the car radio to get the time,
and the first plane hit. After that like most people
I know I remember days of TV and crying. Calling
friends who had people in New York, checking.
Hearing stories of people lost in my own small
circle, and all of this under quiet skies, because
the planes were down.
10 years on, the results of this tragedy still ricochet
around the world. Any of us alive at the time will
never forget. And most of us will never fully process
it. For all of those who lost their lives, for all of
those who lost loved ones, for everyone feeling grief
because of war and destruction and loss of loved
ones across the planet, I send out love, peace, and
understanding.
We watched a documentary last night on the Pugwash
Peace conferences begun Pugwash, Nova Scotia
near where we have our summer place. That conference
is attended by scientists and politicians around the
world, trying to put an end to nuclear weapons, and
to war. They've accomplished a lot, and I wish them
the best in their continued work.
Have a dreaming-of-peace-in-our-lifetime day.
