Pentagon Memorial

Pentagon 9-11 Memorial

Everyone looks to the front, as Marybeth spoke about our last stop of the long and muggy day at the Pentagon Memorial. I felt excited, but at the same time weary. I don't like to cry, but it comes to easy for me! As we pulled into the 67 acre lot, everyone noticed just how big the Pentagon is. Five-sided with bomb resistant windows, the Pentagon is the largest office building in the U.S. We sauntered off the bus, welcoming the cooler weather. We walked toward the memorial thinking we were ready to handle the clout of sadness that would soon loom over us, but we weren't. At the memorial there is no picture taking. In the Memorial there are benches that look like waves. They either face towards the building for those who died working in the Pentagon, or away in the opposite direction, for the people in the plane. My friend and I knelt down to read the first name on the bench. Dana Falkenberg, born in 1998.  Already, I could feel myself welling up. That little boy died at only three years old, with his little nine-year-old sister Zoe by his side, along with their parents. I think that bothered me the most was imagining (even if not correct) Dana in his mother's arms. She must have been so strong for her son and daughter. She knew they were going down and that her children's short lives were only seconds away from ending, but she didn’t shed a tear because she wanted them to die knowing their mother and father loved them.  She didn’t want them to see her crying. It would only upset them.  I know this probably isn’t exactly how they went out of this world, but I like to think highly of the innocent people who died on September 11, 2001.  Realistically I know this is not true.  Not all of those people where good and pure, but it doesn’t really matter if they died a good person or a bad person.  What matters is that they died innocently.  Moving on through the memorial, the dismal mood worsened until several of my peers, including myself, were either crying or on the verge of tears.  Once we had left the memorial few words were spoken between my friends and I.  We knew talking about what we had just gone through would make us feel worse.  Stepping onto the bus was like stepping onto a place where I felt comfortable enough to cry.  I soon noticed others felt the same way. People who had seemed undeterred let it all out.  Everybody settled into their seats. Depictions of innocent passengers flitted through my mind.  It made me feel so awful imagining the confused look on Dana’s face as he took his last look at his family.  The bus launched forward and rolled smoothly out of the lot.  A song by Kitty Donahue singing about 9/11 strolled out the speakers making my heart ache.  I could feel dry tears staining my face as I listened not only to the music, but to the sobs of the others on the bus.  Once the song ended,  ou would have thought that the weeping would die out, but it stayed strong for another 15 minutes.  My friend offered her comfort to another friend and I as I am sure others did for their friends.  Tissues were passed around and slowly everyone stopped crying.  There is no doubt in my mind that later – whether It be tonight in the hotel rooms or even a few months later – tears will come back to me as they will to others.  My friend made a great a great point, “ If we are crying this much now think how bad I’ll be at the Holocaust museum.”  She’s right. I will be horrible as the feeling that will enclose us as we touch into victim’s lives.  But if today is any indicator to how my peers will act at the Holocaust Museum that isn’t one bone in my body that tells me that we won’t handle it with understanding, caring for one another, and of course, respect for those that have passed away.
 
-Sydney