Weeping goes on so long Mundane chores a balance for grief

It’s been three weeks, and I’m tired of crying. Just like you.

Just like a friend from Wilmington, N.C., who said he was tired of the commentaries, the updates, the headlines, the color photographs, the videotapes that never die. “I am tired of the crying and want to cry no more,” he wrote simply.

An aunt called to say she couldn’t stop weeping, that every time she thought of children without parents, of parents without children, she wept. At a candlelight service at the waterfront gazebo in Manchester, Mass., she wept. At Mass she knelt, and wept.

Friends who watched the prayer service in Yankee Stadium a week ago Sunday called afterward in tears. They couldn’t stand the pain on those faces televised to all us strangers … those faces who still held hope as their arms held banners or signs printed with a missing loved one’s name or photo.

Neighbors, sisters, sons, daughters, colleagues, students, ministers, acquaintances, all confirm their tears – their sobs – these past three weeks since the nation was thrust into profound grief for thousands lost and for their families.

In church, we’ve cried while singing “Oh, God, Our Help in Ages Past,” or “Battle Hymn of the Republic.” We’ve cried when watching lobster boats leaving the harbor, the flags on their bows at half-staff, their noisy radios silent.

We’ve cried when the chief executive officer of Cantor Fitzgerald cried, when he sat across a desk from CNN’s Larry King and told the nation and the world that all of his employees atop the north tower were lost. We’ve cried when rabbis prayed, when the Boys Choir of Harlem and the Girls Choir of Harlem sang “We Shall Overcome,” when New York firefighters opened the stock market, when the president addressed Congress, when bells at our own community church beckoned those in need of solace and silent meditation.

When told of the heroism of our own Maine firefighters and Red Cross workers and emergency personnel who have gone to New York in rescue efforts, we’ve cried with pride … and relief.

Organizations – some familiar and others distant – that have raised thousands and even millions of dollars to aid victims and their families have brought tears to our eyes.

So have news and feature articles from The New York Times to the Bangor Daily News, from The Wall Street Journal to the University of Maine’s Maine Campus. They have added a human dimension to this historic event, and have made “the news” touch home.

After three weeks, I’m tired of crying – just like you – but cannot promise there will be no more tears.

In the meantime, I’m replacing casters on the legs of the old dining room table; I’m reading plans for the town’s salt-sand shed; I’m embracing friends and family; I’m working, and cooking, and placing around a few cheery gourds and pumpkins. Nothing dramatic, nor noteworthy, just keeping back the tears.

And I’m following the edict of a sign on a pottery shop south of Belfast. It didn’t advertise anything, nor did it sing out patriotic phrases. It just said: “Pray.”

Editor’s Note: Starting today, Katherine Heidinger’s weekly column will appear Tuesdays in the Style section.