Journey Through the Great Sadness

In the days following 9/11, the skies were empty. It was an eerie silence. Airplanes were a constant in the Washington, DC area. I lived less than four miles from Reagan International Airport. The metro train I took into the city each day made a stop at this airport. But, in the days following the attacks, there was no reason to make the stop.

No employees would be reporting to work for their shifts. Passengers heading out on day-business trips were unable to fly out of Reagan. No visitors from other places needed to greet the metro to make their way to friends, family or hotels.

The stop for the Pentagon was closed off for a while too. Some members of our military were allowed to exit at the Pentagon location but their duties were most likely critical and grim.

The only thing flying around the skies were military air craft and every once in a while, Marine One (or its body double). When you’re used to having airplanes constantly flying overhead, making their way in and out of one of the busiest airports on the planet, the silence is deafening. Even when other airports eventually opened, Reagan remained closed due to its proximity to the White House and Capitol Hill (and the Pentagon).

Another strange visual was the numerous military police and other military members stationed at various locations throughout the streets of DC. Many were accompanied by Humvee’s. All carried loaded weapons; always at the ready. They didn’t mess around with jokesters or or second guess the slightest suspicion.

We were a wounded nation and they stood proud as our protective barrier. In many ways, they were also a band aid for the open sore we still scratched.

I remember going out with one of my video photographers to the corner nearest the CBN News headquarters where we worked. We were sent to shoot B-roll for a story about the extra protection our city enjoyed, albeit at too high a cost. At least four MP’s with their Humvee’s and weapons-at-the-ready were standing guard; walking to and fro. “This must be what it’s like to live in Israel,” I whispered.

Indeed.

But the skies didn’t remain silent for long. Everyone returned to their normal activities all the while keeping one eye to the sky for signs of trouble. The noise was a welcome return from the silence that made us remember too much but nervous for what could happen yet again.