Sunday night I was running behind schedule. I was scrambling to finish laundry, pack, gather my diabetes supplies, and get everything together for a last minute business trip to New York. Then my phone chirped with a text message: “Turn on the news.”
I knew that I was traveling the next morning, and given the news I expected elevated security at the airport, so I stayed up late and evaluated everything that I had packed to try and limit any security issues I might have with all my diabetes accoutrements. So focused on the business of travel, I didn’t have time to get online and look at Twitter or Facebook until right before I stretched out with my cat in bed for a couple hours of sleep before getting up to go to the airport.
I was encouraged and comforted by some of the short status posts and tweets about the event. Many were hopeful for peace, for healing, and for the closing of a terrible chapter in our lives and nation’s history. At the same time, I saw many negative and passive-aggressive remarks that came across as almost a jubilation of hatred, and made my heart hurt for those lost. After Sunday night, I decided to let Facebook go for a few days. I honestly couldn’t handle the hatred and celebration of death that was overwhelming my news feed and inciting arguments, both amongst my friends and within myself.
I believe that things happen for a reason. I have faith, and allow myself to trust sometimes even when I cannot see the bigger picture of things. I had no plans of going to New York prior to a week ago, but then I got a call for a meeting and packed my bags, never imagining that I would be in the city 12 hours after news that the world had been waiting to hear for nearly a decade.
After my plane landed on Monday morning, I took a cab to my hotel, dropped off my bags, and made my way to Lower Manhattan and Ground Zero. I stood next to people who were cheering and waving American flags, and observed their transitions from previously defeated to recently victorious. I stood quietly next to people who were praying, remembering, and would always have a hole in their soul from what was taken from them one terrible Tuesday morning. I walked through St. Paul’s Chapel, and through the cemetery behind it nearest Ground Zero, imagining the many resting souls there who had shepherded to the other side those that had lost their way on September 11, 2001, just out of human sight.
It occurred to me that no matter what the news of the day was, the history and loss was still there and present. The death of a single terrorist while I was standing amid the headstones in a graveyard with a front row seat to the tragedy of 9/11 had as much effect on me as a cure for diabetes for those that have already been lost to the disease. That is to say, it didn’t really change much.
There are men and women from all different nationalities fighting for a better world right now, who are leaders, soldiers, and heralds of change, who realize that the reality of terrorism and injustice may always exist, but believe that it doesn’t have to keep anyone from the opportunity to achieve their dreams. The goal is to one day eliminate terror and violence from this world, but even if that never happens, they will at least have made positive changes in the quality of life for so many.
As a diabetes advocate, I am one of many fighting for a better world also, where the reality of diabetes may always exist, but it doesn’t have to keep anyone from achieving their dreams. Our goal is to one day eliminate diabetes from this world, but even if that never happens, we will at least make positive changes in the quality of life for those living with the disease.
In addition to a productive meeting and an enjoyable time with friends from all over the city, I wonder if that realization and appreciation might be the real reason that I was meant to be in New York on the day that I was.