I knew the 9/11 ten-year anniversary TV coverage was going to be gut-wrenching, but I had to watch some of it. I'd never seen the 9/11 Memorial and didn't know what they planned in the way of a ceremony. NBC did a great job of simultaneously broadcasting from Ground Zero, the Pentagon, and that peaceful-looking field in Pennsylvania. I found the ceremonies beautiful, tasteful, and touching. I dabbed tears several times as I listened to the reading of the names and the personal messages from the readers to their lost loved ones.
It was an uplanned moment that touched me the most, however. It was captured by an NBC cameraman with a discerning eye as he was panning through the Ground Zero crowd . An Asisan woman with her back to the camera leaned over a name, barely holding herself up with her hands on each side of it. She clutched a crumpled tissue in one hand. A small puddle slowly seeped into the pristine stone in front of her. Tears? She tried vainly to staunch the flow from her eyes with the soggy tissue.
That's when I got it: for me, it's been ten years. For her, it's still happening.
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