Friend Grief and the 10th Anniversary of 9/11

And now, as they say, a programming note:

I will be writing from New York City starting September 7^th, on the 10^th anniversary observances of 9/11.

I’m there for two reasons: First, one chapter in my book covers people who lost friends on 9/11; some of those stories also pop up elsewhere in the book. Second, one of my high school classmates died in the South Tower, and I’m going to hear her name read at the Naming Ceremony (hopefully, pronounced correctly this year), and to see her name engraved on the new 9/11 Memorial.

I’ll be looking at the anniversary from a number of different perspectives: how the arts and different faiths are observing it, for example. You can expect me to point out how some are making money off the anniversary, too (my ‘favorite’ last year were the people dressed up like NYPD and FDNY lottery balls).

I also have a terrific guest blogger on September 11, whose website you can check out at Damon DiMarco. He’s written a beautiful prayer that I’m honored to share with all of you.

My blogging schedule is as follows:

9/7 – Preserving Stories

9/8 – Tourism and Souvenirs, 9/11-style

9/9 – The Guys

9/10 – 110 Stories

9/11 – Guest post by Damon DiMarco, author of Tower Stories: An Oral History of 9/11

9/12 – Ground Zero, 10 Years Later

9/13 – The Buddhists and the Brits: how other cultures and faiths commemorate 9/11

9/14 – The New 9/11 Memorial

There will be lots of pictures, as well as links to organizations doing good work supporting first responders and others whose health was impacted, as well as those preserving our memories. Not surprisingly, there have been some 9/11 charities that turned out to be nothing more than scams or blatant sales promotions. Be assured that the professional fundraiser in me has vetted all the nonprofit organizations that (ever) appear on this site.

So, if you are determined to avoid any and all reminders of 9/11, I understand. I’ll see you back here on the 16^th. I’ll be sharing thoughts on friend grief from unlikely sources, like Winnie the Pooh. Otherwise, join me for the next week or so for a look at how we grieve our friends lost on that clear, blue Tuesday ten years ago.

Labor Day Thoughts on Workplace Grief

People work in offices and construction sites, museums and restaurants. Rarely do they work completely alone. They have co-workers

I remember my Dad’s funeral. He was a deputy sheriff, and some of the other deputies escorted the funeral procession to the cemetery: riding ahead to block intersections, later standing in formation, adding an air of importance that my Dad would’ve loved. It was how they honored them.

It’s hard to grieve when a co-worker has died. The reminders of the loss are there, in front of you sometimes, all day long. They are replaced, because someone has to do their job. You may feel resentful and angry, perhaps even because their death left you with a whole lot more work to do.

We often spend more waking hours at work than with our families, so it’s no wonder our co-workers are so important to us. But today, as we prepare for the last holiday weekend of the summer, let’s take a moment to remember those we’ve lost who sat in the next cubicle, or performed on stage with us. For they were our friends, too.

“My Best Friend Died and It Changed My Life”

The 4-legged version of George

If George Davis was an animal, he’d be a Labrador retriever puppy: boundless energy and enthusiasm, openly affectionate and fun.

We met at a writer’s conference in New York, and I was touched by his encouragement of my work. He’s a cheerleader for his friends and their dreams. But it took the death of his best friend to make him a cheerleader for his own dreams.

Over wine at Rachel’s on 9^th Avenue, he told me about his friend, who died at the much too young age of 29. Most of that conversation will be revealed in my book, but there was something that struck me then, and in the eloquent eulogy he gave at the memorial service.

The media have introduced us to the Myth of the Perfect Dying Person: the saintly one, who never complains despite excruciating pain; the one who protects those closest to them from their fate. The problem is that in this case it was true.

In George’s eulogy, his brother’s college roommate reflected, “I only met him a few times, and am ashamed to say that his always lively, animated demeanor lulled me into underestimating the severity of his illnesses.” It’s a noble and self-sacrificing thing that these friends do for us: shield us from reality, from pain both physical and emotional. But like the man said, it lulls us into a false sense of security.

When George and I talked that night, it was clear that even though they spent as much time together as possible, the fact that they weren’t together at the end weighed on him. But what was truly important had already happened: his friend knew how much he was loved.

To lose your best friend at so young an age – any age – is a life-changing experience. The best way I can explain its effect on George is to say he finally answered the question, “What are you waiting for?” He found the strength to commit: to move back to the states from France, to the work that was meaningful to him, to the woman he loved. And he gives full credit to his best friend.

Not everyone has so dramatic an epiphany following the death of a friend. But sometimes we need a kick in the butt to do what we were always meant to do. It shouldn’t surprise you when it’s your best friend doing the kicking.

G.G. Davis, Jr. (aka VirtualDavis) creates, collects and curates adventure stories from the Adirondack shore of Lake Champlain. An unabashed flâneur, Virtual Davis is the author of Rosslyn Redux, a transmedia chronicle of marriage testing misadventure, exurban flight and eco-historic rehab.

Speaking Ill of the Dead

People who are in the public eye – politicians, athletes, performers – are used to being misrepresented in the press. It comes with the territory. Their lives – and deaths – are under a microscope.

Amy Winehouse. Michael Jackson. Heath Ledger. Speculation about the cause of death – and their lifestyles – fueled the tabloids for week. People popped up out of nowhere – childhood classmates, neighbors, former lovers – offering titillating details, though the accuracy was often questionable. It’s hard to sort the truth, and those who knew them best must be incredibly angry, but not surprised.

When there is a natural disaster (earthquake, hurricane, tornado) or an act of violence (drive-by shooting, bombing, car accident), the lives of everyday people are subjected to scrutiny. The average person is not used to this. So if their death is misrepresented in the press, it’s a situation for which their family and friends are unprepared.

As I write this, news stations are reporting that over 20 people died during Hurricane Irene. And as horrible as that is for their family and friends, now there will be a discussion about how their deaths could have been avoided. 

“They were stupid to go surfing.”

“They should’ve evacuated.”

Really? They deserved to die?

It may be very true that they made a conscious decision that resulted in their death, but it’s doubtful that they intended suicide. More likely, they were just no match for the force of the hurricane.

But speculating about their sanity accomplishes nothing other than bringing additional, unnecessary pain to their family and friends.

So if you are tempted to say something along the lines of, “well, they should’ve known better”, as if they got what they “deserved”:  don’t. Consider for a moment how you’d feel if strangers were criticizing the friend you grieve. Don’t make anyone else feel that kind of anger.

Commemorating 9/11 Isn’t for Everyone

I remember when 9/11 happened. I was glued to the TV, watching everything, read everything, trying to understand what had happened. Others watched nothing, read no articles.

The 10^th anniversary of the September 11 attacks is fast approaching. Television will be saturated with reruns of original programming from that day and new retrospectives. Reports on the building of the new Tower One, and the 9/11 Memorial and Museum have already appeared in newspapers. Books are being re-reprinted, and new ones are coming out in time for the anniversary.

But not everyone wants to remember.

Families, friends, survivors, even those with no connection to the losses of that day may want to ignore the whole thing.

For some, it’s dwelling in the past, on a horrible event.

For some, the politics of the rebuilding have left a sour taste in their mouths.

For some, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan are enough of a reminder.

For some, the observances simply remind them of what they lost that day.

Make no mistake: people don’t need these ceremonies to be reminded of what happened, especially if they lost a friend or family member that day. They grieve every day.

But I hope that those of us who are participating in observances around the world will remember that not everyone grieves the same way. Just because they don’t watch the TV specials, or attend special events, or talk about where they were that day, that doesn’t mean they are indifferent.

You don’t have to wave a flag to prove you love your country, and you don’t have to be at Ground Zero to prove you grieve for those who died.

How people react to this isn’t good or bad. Just assume it’s right for them.

How Can You Tell Who The Friends Are?

No gladiolas, please

I remember sitting in the funeral parlor for my uncle’s wake. He’d died in a car accident less than two weeks before Christmas, and we were in shock. There would be no Christmas that year, not really. But first we had to get through the wake and funeral.

I sat there with my sister and cousin as the funeral directors brought in the flower deliveries. It soon became apparent – at least to us – who knew my uncle and how well.

He and I shared a hatred of gladiolas (and no, you can’t change my opinion on this). They exist only for funerals, in my mind, and depress me just thinking about them. It seemed everyone he worked with who sent flowers, sent gladiolas. “They don’t know him,” we’d say smugly.

Now and then, an arrangement with bird of paradise, his favorite flower, would arrive. And we knew the people who sent them really knew him well.

Years later, when the funeral ends in the film The Big Chill, Karen plays “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” for the recessional. His friends understood not only that it as Alex’s favorite song, but probably had specific memories related to it. His family may have not even known it was his favorite.

Family have been with us since the beginning, but friends are with us most of the way. Don’t be surprised if you know things about your friend that their family never suspected (good and bad). Share them: with other friends and with the family. In times of grief, stories of happier times and the assurance that their loved one was loved can make a world of difference.

And just in case you want to know, I prefer calla lilies.

Hierarchies of 9/11 Grief

Ground Zero Museum (14th St.)

There is a lot of talk these days about the changes in the observances at Ground Zero this year, for the 10^th anniversary.

It’s a significant anniversary, not just because 10 is a special number, whether it’s a birthday or anniversary. The new 9/11 Memorial, on the footprints of the Twin Towers, opens that day (the underground Museum won’t open for another year).

Because of those things, changes have been made, and it seems no one is happy about them. Although it’s been alleged that they’ve never before been officially invited, survivors and first responders have been told there is no room for them this year. It will be families only along with a larger than usual contingent of politicians.

Personally, I have no problem with Presidents Bush and Obama, along with Mayor Bloomberg and former Mayor Giuliani attending (they’re not giving speeches). Last year Vice President Biden attended the observances, and given the importance this year, I think all four of them should be there. But…

When I attended the 9^th anniversary ceremonies I was really struck by the stark, official hierarchy of grievers, a hierarchy that has existed from the beginning: families first, then first responders, then everyone else (including survivors and those who lived and worked in the area that day).

There is a very small geographic area for those attending: very, very limited. As a non-family member, I was lucky to find a spot to stand across Broadway from Zuccoti Park. The Memorial itself opens that day, but only for family members, and I have no problem with that. It opens to the public the next day, and I’ll be there on the 13^th.

But I can’t help but feel great sympathy for the first responders and survivors. I’m way down the list in this hierarchy. I always knew that. But as if often the case, actions do not match words. “We’ll have a separate ceremony for you at a later date” is not a particularly respectful suggestion.

This is an extreme example of a hierarchy of grieving, of those who have “more reason” to grieve than others. I’m not going to get into that discussion, especially as it relates to 9/11. I wish there was enough room for everyone to be there, right there, in the park and on the street. Enough room for everyone who grieves someone who died that day – not just in New York, but Pennsylvania and Washington, DC.

I hope there can be an amicable resolution to this. Because there are so many people who deserve to share that day with others who grieve as they do.