Where do you find words when your heart has been broken a million times in a single day? How can thoughts be accurately expressed through fingers that still shake, trying to describe the horrors my eyes have witnessed today?
What can be said? What words can quantify such tragedy?
There was a small huddle surrounding the TV in the lobby of the Little Software Company I work for. Fox News was tuned in. The second tower had been hit about 30 minutes before my arrival. I had heard the whole thing on the radio during my morning commute.
Pale and shaking I joined the huddle. When news flashed that the Pentagon had been struck I wept. I have no shame, I openly cried surrounded by co-workers. Sometimes, I am not so good at reigning in my emotions. Some of the men looked at me enviously. I could tell by the look on the vice president of international sales’ face that he too wished he could let go and weep.
Then we all stood there, together and alone in the beam from the TV. There was the low murmur of discussion. People filling in the newly arriving. Questions asked of nobody in particular.
“Oh my god, it’s falling,” I said and pointed. The murmur stopped and the director of information services turned up the volume.
Stunned silence and eyes filling up with tears as we watched our naivete, our innocence, our faith in humanity crumble onto the streets of Manhattan.
Well-wishes keep pouring in via e-mail from all our international distributors. Each one makes my eyes water.
I am going home now. Actually, I am heading to my parents’ house. I cannot be alone yet.