So, the man is dead. Nearly ten years later, the most hated man in America (outside of political party politics) is dead. I'm sitting here, watching on the newscasters and talking heads talk very excitedly about what this means for President Obama's reelection; I'm seeing posts on Facebook that range from "The SOB is dead!" to "Hooray, Osama's dead!" and everything in between. I'm hearing the chants of the crowds outside of the White House in Washington, singing "Sha na na na, hey hey hey, goodbye."
Am I the only one that finds this horribly disrespectful?
I was a young man, 21, when the towers fell. I remember watching on infinite loops on CNN for two days of all the coverage in Manhattan. I remember the sick rage when a lady said she was on the phone with someone who was trapped in the rubble (It turned out to be a hoax.). I remember watching clips of people jumping from burning buildings to their deaths. I remember the towers finally falling dooming everyone in them, and around them. I was a young impressionable man stuck in essentially downtown Chicago, wondering if the next attack would be us. I still recall the first plane that flew a few days later, watching with other people in mute fascination at something we at one point took for granted in our days.
Later, I saw ground zero with my own eyes. It was 2 years later, but much had remained unchanged: the couple of surviving buildings deserted in the middle of the bustling metropolis; the scrapes on the walls where metal had clashed against concrete, and most horrifying of all- the memory wall where people desperately posted pictures of loved ones lost. Have you seen my husband? Michael, loving father of two, missing since... My daughter Shelly. Endless pictures and poems and prose describing the individual, unique lives of those who didn't return home for dinner, didn't kiss their spouses hello in the evening time, didn't hug their children after school ever again.
Am I glad Osama's dead? I'm relieved for this break through, but not glad. 2996 people died for nothing. They awoke that day, went to work, did their best in this life to live and died because some people decided that they needed to make a point. And a decade later, one person has been brought to justice.
Is this victory? No. Michael will never seen his children again. Shelly will never tell her parents she loves them. They will be missed and loved and remembered where ever their lives touched another. At our memorials, we will remember them and their lives, thrown away on the maniacal bent of a dedicated group of extremists, and their now dead king.
It is an insult to our military, our armed forces both en masse and individually to belittle their sacrifices with celebration. It is an insult to the survivors of our national misfortune to reduce their pain, and their courage with profanity, obscenity, and crudeness. Sending an enemy off into the shuffle coiled with a song, embarrasses our national dignity.
This is an hour of reflection, tempered with resolve that only through our collected efforts as human beings can we avoid any such tragedy in the future. Reflect on those 2996 dead. Take a moment to honor their memory; one second a person, would take almost an hour. Honor the memories of our fallen soldiers who fought so hard and sacrificed everything so we can live in this post Osama world renewed with hope and spirit. Respect the moment. This is our national closure; an end to a chapter borne in American blood, forged in our determination for Justice, and ended with only the promise of a better tomorrow.
Remember the sacrifice. And use it to build a better future.
