Imagine
It’s a strange feeling to know that he is dead. The man who caused so much suffering, so much hatred, so much turmoil, mistrust, and grief. His life was about ending the lives of others whose views he could not understand or tolerate. And now, Osama bin Laden’s own end has come. After a long and arduous wait, America is breathing a collective sigh of relief. My boys are celebrating. It’s a “Black Ops” kind of day for them — hunt down the bad guy, shoot to kill, win the game. But the game is far from won. I am not sad that he is gone. I dreamt last night of the widows and widowers of 9/11. Of the children growing up without parents, of the mothers and fathers who lost their own, of the friends, the families, the numerous loved ones left behind to grapple with such pain and devastation. I will never claim to know the magnitude of their loss. And if today’s headline news gives them some sense of closure, then I would never begrudge them that tiny slice of peace. But in my heart of he...