Some years ago, I watched a TV documentary about the Manson murders which focused some attention on a sister of Sharon Tate, whose mission in life seemed to be showing up at the parole hearings of the Manson girls and making sure they aren’t released. Twenty-five years after the murders, she remained angry, embittered, and unforgiving. It struck me as intensely sad. Her life is defined by something that happened in 1969.

I don’t know how I would behave under those circumstances, but I hope I would be able to get on with my life.

A few weeks ago, I watched something similar on MSNBC, this time about a woman whose brother was senselessly killed by two teenagers about 20 years ago. The woman was stuck in time. She had never allowed her family to take another family picture, because it wouldn’t include her brother. The others had moved on, dealt with their grief, but she hadn’t. She remained angry, embittered, and unforgiving.

Through a special program (whose name I can’t recall), this woman was able to go into the prison, meet with one of the killers, and ask him anything she wanted. It was interesting to watch. The man was as contrite as anyone could expect, with no excuses, and through the prism of TV, I felt he was fully sincere. He, in fact, had developed what seemed to be tremendous maturity and character within the confines of prison; his life was defined by his crime, but he was able to move on. But the woman left that meeting even more determined to keep the guy in prison; determined to show up at any parole hearings to state her case. This, too, struck me as terribly sad.

A few days ago, a news show mentioned a woman who lost someone in the World Trade Center. She was among the relative few who refused to accept any survivor compensation. She, too, remains angry, embittered, unforgiving. Stuck in 2001. She says, “I want answers.” To…what? She, too, struck me as a tragically sad figure. Someone you probably don’t enjoy being around. Someone who has crafted her identity around the tragedy of 9/11.

I can’t claim any knowledge of what it feels like to lose a loved one to senseless violence. But I would hope I could move on with my life. I would expect better of a Christian.

Today is 9/11. There are World Trade Center survivors still fighting over what will replace the towers. Some want to make it a perpetual memorial to their loved ones. On MSNBC this morning, Mayor Michael Bloomberg talked, in a diplomatic way, about the need to move on with your life. He mentioned the death of his father when he was 21, but that he and his sister, despite their grief, completed college and began successful careers, and now, looking back, the grief is gone and they only have good memories of their father. Their example is not sad.