I cannot celebrate death. It just seems wrong to me.
I cringed at the sight of parties in the streets, but at the same time, I understood them.
I understand the psychological impact on Americans, and their allies, at his death.
But it's still death.
I did find some satisfaction in watching video of a fire truck in New York City pull up to a crowd of revellers. I watched as the firefighters climbed atop the truck, taking pictures of the crowds. They seemed happy, although definitely not in the same rambunctious manner as those below them. People gave them high-fives, they waved.
But mostly, it seemed, they just took it all in. Watched.
I think I get it.
See, they lost 343 brothers on 9/11.
Bin Laden was the self-proclaimed mastermind behind those deaths.
There is some reconciliation in knowing he is gone, but I imagine it is difficult to be rambunctiously joyous in the face of something that reminds them of the 343.
I find that not many people know that number. Not the way the fire family does.
I was not a fire wife in 2001. Not only had I not met FireMan yet, he wasn't a firefighter yet. Not in 2001.
I can only imagine what I would have felt had the now "us" been around back then.
I read today that the news of Bin Laden's death is actually triggering PTSD-type flashbacks among survivors of 9/11.
I can only imagine.
And so I met the news in a kind of emotionless way. I took it in. I watched as others revelled.
And although I can rejoice in the delivering of an enemy into our hands, I cannot rejoice in a soul that has been lost forever.
There has been too much death. Yes, maybe I'm in a different frame of mind because of my friend. But reflecting on what started this to begin with... thousands of innocents killed. 343 firefighters never to return home. Soldiers dying overseas.
There has been too much death already. One more, whomever it may be... well, I just cannot celebrate death.