Ten years ago I was wrestling at the University of Nebraska, and I was lifting weights in the morning at the Bob Devaney sports arena. It was the same building where our wrestling room was, and it was the same place that we wrestled most of our meets in. The radio was on tuned to some sort of rock station, and while the radio hosts were talking, they suddenly focused on the topic that a plane had flown into one of the world trade center builidings. From how they first mentioned it, it sounded like a small private plane had hit the towers, and they were wondering how someone could have been so stupid as to fly into a large building in Manhattan. I finished my workout, showered, and went over to the athlete’s center to have breakfast at the cafeteria. When I arrived, that is when I realized how serious the situation really was, and I watched with everyone else as the two towers eventually came down. I was in shock and disbelief that something like that could happen on American soil. I tried to go through the motions of the rest of my day.
The day passed and I was again watching the news watching the aftermath of the horrific events. The one thing that sticks with me is seeing the many people who had missing family members and friends with cardboard signs and pictures trying to locate them with the help of the news. I couldn’t help but think how I would be feeling at that moment if my family or friends had gone missing. There was no way that I could possibly understand what those people were experiencing at that time, but I know that I hurt inside and started to cry. I remember thinking about my two brothers who were serving LDS missions at the time. One was in Puerto Rico, the other one was in the Dominican Republic. I prayed for both of them to be safe. I prayed for the people who had lost someone in the terrorist attacks, and I prayed that those people who weren’t found yet could somehow still be alive. I prayed because that is all that I felt that I could do.
Now ten years later, I think about the lives lost and how I felt watching all of those people in search of their loved ones. I would like to think that there is some healing that has taken place, but I imagine that there is still an emptiness that I cannot truly comprehend. Now with two children of my own, just the thought of losing one of them scares me to death. Once when my oldest daughter was still a baby, I ran some errands with her in the back seat. My wife usually always had her, but I had taken her for a little ride. It was supposed to be fun. I got out of the car locked the doors and walked into Walgreen’s to fill a prescription. I came out shortly after, and I saw my daughter fast asleep in her car seat. I had left her in the back the whole time without even remembering that she was with me. In that moment I thought of how both of our lives and my wife’s could have changed in the blink of an eye if something had happened to her. I felt horrible and scared that something could have happened, but I was also relieved that nothing did. I can’t imagine the pain that would come from losing a child. I hope that is something that I never have to deal with.
I am very far away from the United States. I am in Turkey. I am getting ready to wrestle in the world championships. I weigh in today, and I wrestle tomorrow. I wish that somehow wrestling could fix things. I wish that somehow wrestling could heal all of the broken hearts that resulted from that tragedy a decade ago. I know that it can’t, but I would like it to at least help a little bit. I want to win for America. I want to win for my wife and kids back home. I want to win for me. I want to win.