9/11

The fourteenth anniversary of the 9/11 attacks was last week.

These are the kinds of deaths people aren’t afraid to talk about. The roughly three thousand people who died in the terrorist attacks are called to mind at memorials throughout the country (and world) and all over media (social and otherwise) on the anniversary. These deaths are ones we can all agree were too soon, unfair, horrifying, a tragedy. No American would argue that the 9/11 victims (from plane passengers to civilians to first responders) died by natural causes or were “ready to go.” The unified outrage we know we all feel lets us react to the deaths very publicly.

The 9/11 attacks caused a massive ripple effect, both in terms of big obvious events like the War on Terror, and smaller things that continue to affect civilians, like increased airport security. But more than anything, 9/11 has become a key moment, a symbol of our time. Everyone has a memory of where they were when they heard the news, who they contacted first, how it affected their day. These are the stories they tell on Facebook, often including a picture – always of the World Trade Center, the most visually impacting target – and closing with #neverforget.

There’s nothing wrong with that, of course. I am not disputing the tragedy, or that we should honor our dead and those that died saving others. But I didn’t know anybody who died on 9/11, and neither did my family or friends at the time. I wonder sometimes about those who did.  What is it like to have lost a brother, or sister, or parent, or child, or spouse, or best friend, not in a quiet private way, but in an international event that people bring up again year after year? Is it helpful to know that their deaths have not been forgotten, that people continue to memorialize the attacks? Or does it rid one of the opportunity to mourn privately? Does it mean people think of your person as a “victim of 9/11,” and assume they know everything about what that means? Does looking at photo after photo of the New York skyline in your newsfeed just make you relive the loss again and again, in a way that is painful rather than honorable?

We can think and talk about those who died in 9/11, because for so many of us it’s abstract, something far off in the landscape that we know exactly how to feel about, without having to deal with individualized pain. But for thousands, those attacks aren’t abstract; they’re not just a quick post on social media. They’re very very personal.

And it’s when you let it get personal that death becomes hard to talk about.