Last.Damn.Call

My son will be 14 years old next month, and sometimes (like with many young people) his questions about life amaze me. They make me think long and hard sometimes. Questioning the right way to answer. Questioning the adult way to answer a child’s question. I am not looking for validation or opinions or anything at all really. Just sharing my thoughts on a conversation my son and I had the other day.

Discussing Veteran’s Day led into some questions about people who serve in the military which led into 9/11 which led into a boat load of other things I wasn’t fully prepared to answer. Questions about bombings and terrorism and even Charlie Kirk. Politics aside. Opinions aside. Just a few simple questions about how people react and feel when bad things happen basically.

We discussed the Boston Marathon bombing and why anyone would want to hurt people they didn’t even know. Men and women and children and families. What happened to the world when the planes hit the Twin Towers. How many innocent people alongside EMT, firefighters, police lost their lives…and how everyone was affected by that day. In some way.

I explained where I was on 9/11 and how I remember my college classes being cancelled and the prison my sister worked at being on lockdown, and how people were lined up at gas pumps for hours trying to fill their cars up. And that was in southern Illinois–pretty far from where the actual events occurred that day. I remember going to work at a bar in Carbondale and the televisions playing the events of 9/11 on repeat for what felt like days, maybe even weeks.

I recalled how angry people were and how scared we were. And how it was all very confusing to me at the time. Even in my early 20s, it was something I couldn’t quite grasp, as I am sure it was for so many others. I remember people shouting accusations and wanting revenge. And I remember vigils and people praying. Protests. Looting. Madness. So, it seemed to me like the whole world was confused. And maybe we still are.

My son asked me why people celebrate over the death of someone. I had to think on that. Because is it ever truly ok to celebrate the death of someone…even if it is an enemy or someone perceived as evil? I immediately said no. But then, I had to ask myself, what if my son was a victim of the Boston Marathon or any other major act of violence? Would I be mad? Would I be filled with hate and thoughts of vengeance? Probably so. I am not saying I would stay there forever, but when you lose someone to something so senseless, how can you not be outraged and blinded by hate?

The world can be confusing. It can be loud. It can seem eerily quiet at times as well. Discussing your feelings about the “whys” and “ifs” of the world is important regardless of age. Or race. Or religious beliefs. I hope more people are having conversations like this. It is important to talk to one another and not keep your questions to yourself. It is ok to be unsure or to ask questions. My teenage son reminded me this week of what it means to be human. Unbeknownst to him. Just by asking a few “simple” questions. That really weren’t simple at all.

Sometimes, as an adult, I think I forget to pause and reflect on life. Are the things I am consumed with really things that are important to me and my family? Do I pay more attention to the world around me rather than the world inside my own home? Probably more often than I would like to admit. Maybe that’s something I need to continue to remind myself to work on. Just a little lesson from a short conversation with my son.