Pieces Falling

A nation remembers

Twenty-eight years ago, I was in England with my British born mum and my daughters. This was the trip I had always wanted to take them on - to show them “the mother country” with their Nanny. We stayed with family who graciously drove us hither and yon through the British countryside. On Wednesday April 19 we had visited Hampton Court and my daughters had participated in the “Jeweled Egg Hunt”, a scavenger hunt designed to make historical places a little more interesting to a 7 and 10-year-old. Upon returning to Auntie Mirrey’s house we were enjoying a cup of tea, when there was breaking news report on the television of a bombing in Oklahoma City. My dad is from Oklahoma. Oklahoma was far away but not foreign to us. A telephone call “home” would give more information, but the sense of disbelief would remain. On that day twenty-eight years ago, I didn’t know that 6.5 years later I would become a member of a select group of people those who have experienced a personal loss in the midst of a national tragedy. I didn’t realize that I would be able to understand in ways I wish I didn’t know what it is like to have a nation remember the anniversary of your loved one’s death. I pray that no one else ever has that distinction.