I want to
forget. I want to forget that the events of September 11, 2001 ever happened. I want to forget that the
safety, the
comfort of western civilization was shattered by a
terrorist attack that killed thousands of its citizens. I want to forget that people I have come to care about were within sight of the disaster. I want to forget the price that comes with freedom.
Just last week
Doctors Without Borders set up an imitation
refugee camp in my
Dartmouth to teach people what life is like for those whose lives are shattered by
war. Now a real refugee camp of sorts is being set up to
shelter those people whose flights
home were diverted by this
tragedy. Just last week I finished paying for my plane ticket for a trip to
Calgary. Now I am forced to wonder when, if ever we will be able to fly again without
fear.
I want to
remember. I want to remember the people who died without ever knowing why. I want to remember that
life is a
fragile thing,
precious and fleeting. I want to remember that the
worst of times can often bring out the
best in people. I want to remember that no matter the tragedy, we must not live our lives in fear.
As I
reflected on the days events, I asked myself, if it had been me in one of those towers, if I had died today, would I be able to say I lived my life the way I wanted to? Would I be
proud of my deeds, my accomplishments? The answer is
no. To this point, I have largely drifted through life, taking
the path of least resistance, there have been no
great failures, no
great disappointments, but there were also no
great risks. I have
survived, even
thrived, but I for the most part, I have not yet
lived. I have had many
great dreams, but few
great accomplishments, not because they were
beyond my reach, but because I never bothered to get off my ass and
try for them. The moments in my life that I am most proud of, such as helping
friends and repairing my
relationship with my
mother, came when I was willing to
take a chance and try, knowing that I might not
succeed. In fact, some of
my proudest moments are
failures, because I knew that I had given it my all,
regardless of outcome.
When my day comes,
I want be able to face it knowing that I lived the best life I could in the time I had. I
mourn all of those who died today, but I mourn any who died without
this feeling of
inner peace most of all.
To die regretting your life is, in my mind,
the worst kind of hell.