That empty feeling

Yesterday was rough, as it often is. Last week I had been asked to sit in on a 3-person panel with the audience being the entire company so I could discuss my experiences with 9/11 and answer questions after. Everyone was respectful and amazing, but one of the people on the panel with me talked about how he has a friend who worked for Cantor Fitzgerald. Cantor Fitzgerald had a pretty big presence on the upper floors of one of the towers and as such they lost almost everyone who worked in their NYC office ... almost.

My colleague's friend had been told the night before to drive up to their Hartford office for something specific, and as such he was one of just a few who survived. He lived with such intense survivors guilt that he absolutely struggled for years after, in addition to the grief of losing his coworkers and friends.

My story felt pretty tame in comparison. Only a few I knew had been killed and none of those people were more than acquaintances, but I was able to remove myself from the moment and remind myself that no one's trauma is more or less. We don't measure grief and loss by how many people we know died.

Another person whom I love very much was the only person who asked me how I was doing, and that meant so much to me. Just to hear from this person absolutely lit my day up. I know I made some dumb choices. I know I let my guilt and shame take the lead in my decisions, but I did have quite the nice bright moment yesterday.

Quite the nice glimmer