Today is Monday, November 22, 2004. It was 41 years ago that President John F. Kennedy was murdered in Dallas. This was the first great national tragedy that got to me emotionally—the first time my world stopped, a memory etched for eternity of where I was and what I was doing when I heard those awful words, “the President of the United States is Dead.”

Kennedy landed at Fort Worth’s Carswell AFB on Thursday night, November 21, 1963. Air Force One and Two landed almost together. Kennedy moved to his left, to a wire fence and shook hands. Lyndon B. Johnson moved to the fence to the right after deplaning. I was on the right. I got to shake hands with Johnson, but not the President.

The next morning, I went downtown. Kennedy spent the night on the 8th floor of the old Hotel Texas. Red ropes were strung from an elevator to a staircase leading up to a mezzanine. A few minutes after I arrived at the Hotel, Kennedy stepped out of an elevator and proceeded shaking hands along the red rope. I was one of those fortunate enough to shake his hand—not a pumping handshake, but a touching of hands. I was excited. Although I had not been able to vote for Kennedy, I would have if the voting age then had been 18 instead of 21. He then went up stairs for a prayer breakfast and then out onto the parking lot across from the hotel for a public speech.

After the speech I milled around for a while and then headed to school while the President prepared to go to Dallas for a parade through downtown. I was 21-years-old and a junior at Arlington State University--now the University of Texas at Arlington. As I approached Arlington, the radio beamed the news that there had been shots and the President’s motorcade had detoured to Parkland Hospital. I drove on to Arlington and sat in my car listening as the events unfolded. Then the horrid, chilling announcement, at 1:00 p.m. ”THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES IS DEAD.”

A couple of months later I called up an old girlfriend. We agreed to get together and have coffee. Upon arriving at her place, I found she had another man in her life. The three of us (yes, it was damned awkward) went to a Denny’s in Dallas. Her fiancé, an English citizen, was in a conservative seminary in Dallas. His parents were missionaries to a country in South America and he planned to follow in their footsteps. While at the table, my friend's fiancé, with trimbling hands, let it be known that he thought the reason Kennedy had been assassinated was that god was exacting vengeance on the Kennedy family because Joseph Kennedy had been a bootlegger. This was one of the few times in my life that I actually wanted to slug someone. I quickly realized that the violent action racing through my own mind would simple place me on the same level as Oswald or the conspirators—whoever killed Kennedy. Instead I excused myself to the restroom and just stood there for about 10 to 15 minutes until I composed myself.

Forty-one years ago today, I went to class after hearing the news. The professor, the late historian George Wolfskill, talked for about five minutes, tried to hold back tears and dismissed the group with the words "I'm crushed."

I'm still crushed.

I’ve heard other people talk about when their world crashed the first time. Some list the exploding of Challenger. Others have mentioned 9/11.

When was the first time your world stopped?

Never. Well, hardly ever.

I was too young at the time for the Kennedy assassination to affect me that strongly. I was, let's see... 9 years old, too young to fully comprehend it. I knew it was huge bad news, but that's about all.

The worst thing was when South Vietnam fell in 1975 because Congress wouldn't send them the aid we'd promised. That was the first time I ever felt ashamed to be an American. Gen. Norman Schwarzkopf said last week on Hardball that they could have held out, even prevailed, if we had honored our commitments, which is something I'd always suspected.

The best thing was when the Soviet Union fell and the Berlin Wall came down. It shook my world in a good way, made me confident of being on the right side of history for the first time.

Certainly the Challenger explosion affected me, as did 9/11, but in both cases I had already been expecting something of the sort: I knew space exploration was dangerous and there were going to be accidents, and I knew the people who tried to blow up the WTC the first time were still out there and might try again.

The Challenger disaster definately sticks in my mind the most- as I was watching it on TV when it happened, very sad.

Though I despise Reagan, the assasination attempt sticks in my mind, because they stopped classes in school, and I was in high school at the time.

Izdarri- the "wall" coming down, for those still living on the Russian side of it, do not think of that as a good time, but a time of disaster and pain many have not experianced since WW2- even the young will tell you they were better off prior to "glasnost". And it is a complete myth that the soviet union "fell"- in fact, it is more czarist now than since stalin LOL

It may be great to you, but to those that had do actually live through it, it has not been a good thing.

Though for me, personally, it was positive, I would have never met my wife without it LOL

I was just getting in my truck driving to work on 9/11 when I turned on my radio and heard the news.

The one thing you noticed as the day wore on here is th earie silence- Alaska is a major, and I mean MAJOR airway hub- and there was not a jumbo jet in the sky- only the fighter jets in constant rotation in the air. It was really wierd not to have any air traffic during that time. Made me realize how much background air traffic noise we have in Anchorage!

Somehow, despite the fact I was only 5, the Kennedy assassination made a deep impression. I think I must of absorbed the reactions of my parents who were quite distraught. I remember for a couple years, when I went to bad at night, fearing I might be assassinated. Not realizing little boys do not get assassinated.

Four and a half years later I got to shake the hand of a man running for President. He came into the crowd. I remember the energy and excitement of the moment. That man was my first non-Saint Louis Cardinal baseball player hero. Two months later that man too was felled by an assassin's bullet.

I think these events taught me the world is a dangerous place and nothing has stopped my world since.

Sept. 11. It was just a normal day. I slept late. Got up, turned on the TV, and started reading for one of my classes. I finally went to take a shower, when my fiance came into the bathroom and told me one of the towers of the World Trade Center had been hit by something. I thought he had to be mistaken. I jumped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around myself and went into the living room. And there was the World Trade Center with a big hole in it, smoke streaming out. I remember the shock and the absolute sick feeling that came to my stomach. The feeling that surely it was just a mistake -- a horrible accident. And then, as I watched the second plane slammed into the second tower and I knew that it wasn't an accident -- that it was a malicious attack.

In that instant I remembered my trip to the World Trade Center with my high school class. I remembered all the people I saw walking through the lobby, taking the elevators, carrying their briefcases and cell phones - wearing their power suits and thousand dollar shoes. One guy was carrying a nylon backpack, I remember thinking it was weird he carried such a cheap backpack with such an expensive suit. And I realized that all of those people might be dead. I don't think I have ever cried so much in my life. To this day, I still wonder if any of the people I saw on my visit are dead... if any were spared and weren't at work yet. It is a thought that will haunt me when I am 90. I am sad that any children I might one day have will not be able to go and stand on the top of the World Trade Center and see New York spread out before them -- it was one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen and one of my most treasured memories. I am sad that people I never met may be dead, and I am sad that there are people with enough hatred for our country that they thought it was okay to undertake such a heinous act.

Finally I pulled myself together. I was slightly still in shock, but I ate something, got dressed and went to class. Our professor talked about the attack, and said he was glad we had all come to class. That we couldn't let fear run our lives. I still remember the paranoia of many of the people in my class -- the fear that we were next. Everyone knew we would get the... person(s) responsible for the attacks. And yet, we haven't. Bin Laden is still out there. And everyone has been sufficiently distracted by Iraq to not really care that justice hasn't actually been done and the thousands of lives lost in the attacks haven't been avenged.

Well, I haven't forgotten, and I still want to see Bin Laden brought to justice and killed. And hopefully, I'll get to do something about it.

I cant remember the age i was, but basically when i found the a majority of humanity did not think evolution as by science was real, its been going downhill pretty much since then really, to be honest, to be real with it all. It gave me more horror then most things i can think of actually, save what i learned is the other things they do with reality and how hard they really are against finding the truth about natural history, it was a very scary moment in my life, and it was like a prison i fell into that had no way out really, it was pretty much like getting trauma really. It was horrid and i lost motivation really to care about much anything, i felt as if i was trapped in some horrible disneyland, as allowed by the human organisms biology in some abstraction, and this overall massive pile of stinky ignorance would be with me every moment of my life, and furthermore dictate the present becoming the past and future, i could not really get over it, sent chills down my spine really. I then went on to learn that we are destroying the planet, and ourselves, and that these same people whom aim to kill truth basically do this, and kill each other in some perpetual cycle as to keep things the same way. I could go on and on, but it was that first thing that so grabbed my perception in the fluid like direction its been going really, really.

When was the first time your world stopped?
I'm happy to say that I've not had such an experience, beyond the personal sphere (the death of my father in particular).

I was born in 1967 - too young for either Kennedy assassination. The Berlin Wall coming down felt good, but not world-stopping - it felt to me like the end of a process rather than the beginning of one.

The first South African election was special, and I followed it quite closely, but again it was something happening to other people, not me.

The death of Diana didn't affect me at all - a divorced single mother died in a car wreck because she didn't have her seatbelt on and the driver had been drinking. big whoop!

But, the huge outpouring of public grief made me angry that so much heartfelt feeling could be wasted on someone most people had never met, who'd been not far short of a national laughing stock in the months before her death.

Perhaps this was because another relative died close to the time, I was angry with myself for not grieving as much as I was "supposed to"? I think not - I was genuinely perplexed and annoyed at what I saw was a "waste" of national passion on someone who was, by the time of her death, little more than a celebrity. Famous for being famous. Britney Spears without the record sales, J-Lo without the movies. A Nobody Somebody.

She'd divorced out of the Royals. She could still "influence the future king", but since (we're told) the monarchy itself has no influence beyond ceremony, what good is that? Many film stars did as much for charity and press circulations, and hold down full-time days jobs at the same time - something she never did (part-time kindergarten teacher is not high on my list of most respected professionals. Mid-table, at best). I just didn't get it, and I still don't.

To be fair to my countrymen, many of them now look back at the orgy of grief of autumn 1997 and wonder what on Earth they got so worked up about. It's as if the normally stoic national character needed some kind of emotional outlet after so many years of stiff upper lips, and when they let it out, it took control.

9-11 was a horrible day, and I watched the pictures like everyone else I know in the UK, with a mix of disbelief, horror, and (I ashamed to say) relief that it was happening somewhere else. Those pictures will stay in my mind until I die. The French press was right - that day, we all became Americans. For a while. (The Bush administration later made it clear that it didn't much care for us behaving like Americans. By exercising rights to free speech, for example. So that wore off to some degree.)

But, again, the Atlantic is very wide, and it must have been very much more shocking to see such things happening and know that they happened to your country. Shock and horror - yes, but life went on. This was only partly because of distance; I think our (to some extent imagined) familiarity with terrorism has taught us that life does indeed go on.

But my moment will have to wind the clock back before stopping it.

As I said, I was born in 1967. We lived in a bungalow until I was three and a half. I distinctly remember being sat in a high chair there by my father while still a toddler in front of our small, grainy black & white TV, watching men in funny white costumes bounce around very slowly on a dusty white surface, in front of a black, starry sky.

It's just about the first thing I do remember that I can be sure I didn't appropriate later from old photos or TV coverage. I wasn't eating, but had a Fisher-Price-type driver's dashboard on the shelf of the high chair, which I didn't play with, as I was so taken with what went on inside that small grainy screen, and my father's reactions to it. My dad sat in a black leatherette armchair to my right. I don't remember my mother being in the room. Dad spent as much time looking at me and explaining what was going on as he did looking at the screen. Clearly, this was something Important.

Now, I can't be sure if this was the first moon landing in 1969 - it's not impossible, but it's a stretch to think I could remember something so clearly that happened before my second birthday. But it couldn't have been the last, in 1971(72?), as we were no longer living in the bungalow by then.

But this memory is my time-stopper, because an event of such global significance also happens to be my first real memory, which will always stay frozen in time inside my head. (Hopefully a bit more upbeat than some, but that's just the luck of the draw.)

One day when I was seven years old I realised that I was going to die as well. It was only just a matter of time. Thus did I learn about mortality.

One day when I was about ten years old and playing with my brand new Buck Rogers Star fighter toy, I was seriously beaten up by several other boys in the playground who were jealous of said toy and decided to take it, I still have a faint scar on my cheek and chipped tooth to remind me of the occasion. When the teacher came over and broke the fight up, no one explained to her that I was telling the truth and she believed their version of events, that I had picked a fight with them (They were five against me, and all bigger than I was). I was duly punished and my parents informed that I had instigated a fight. My Father then took it upon himself to beat me as well. Thus did I learn about injustice and the short comings of my father.

One day, some where around thirteen years of age, I came to understand that there was no God, *edited to remove potentially confrontational religious content*. Around about the same time, our local vicar was taken away by the church after it emerged he was a serial adulterer. Much was made of his repenting his evil ways and his 'finding himself again'. He never returned of course. His presence would have provoked several local husbands to extremes of anger. He was placed in another parish and never to be heard from again. I don't doubt that he soon returned to his lecherous ways, and I hope he enjoys himself, where ever he is today. I won't have minded if only he hadn't been such a firebrand against 'sin', vice and 'moral corruption'. The man was a charlatan, but even worse, he was protected by the church and his wife (he also had two children). He destroyed several families and was never held to account. Thus did I learn about hypocrisy, duplicity and self deception.

One day when I was fourteen I saw a young man sexually violate a dog in order to win a bet. Thus did I learn about depravity. Later this lesson would be further illustrated by other examples of how low a human being can go for personal gain.

One day when I was sixteen years old and sitting in my grand parents dining room I watched the Space Shuttle Challenger explode and heard my grand parents expressing satisfaction that 'they' deserved it... 'they' being the younger generation, scientists, astronauts, Americans, and every one else my grand parents disapproved of. I was horrified. Space exploration has always been one of my favourite topics and I look upon Astronauts with considerable admiration. Thus did I learn a lesson on jealousy and bitterness.

One day when I was thirty, I made a routine telephone call to my oldest and dearest friend only to be told that she had drowned in the harbour during the previous week end. No one knows whether she committed suicide or was just drunk and fell in the sea. Thus did I learn the real meaning of pain.

A week later I sat at her funeral and listened to a man explaining that she had been taken by God to a better place. My friend had been a serious aethiest and had expressed that she never wanted to be buried in a church yard or have a christian burial. I cried a lot that day because I wanted to. It was the only thing I could do, but it did not make me feel any better.

One day when I was thirty-one years old I watched the Twin towers being destroyed by terrorists. I was horrified at the thought of the poor people in the aeroplanes being violated in such a way as to be used as a living missile against their own people. I later saw hundreds of people coming out into the streets of Copenhagen and Århus and laying flowers out for the dead. I saw our leaders and my neighbours and every one around me all of the same mind. That this was intolerable and the responsible party must be punished. At the time I actually believed we were all as one people, that the western world was united by what had taken place. I don't know what I learned that day, but in the months that followed I learned that the Bush administration did not care one jot about bringing Usama Bin Laden to justice, and today I know that the people of America don't really care either, despite what they say.

One day when I was about thirty three I heard GW Bush tell the world, 'you are either with us or against us'. Later I heard Donald Rumsfeld refer to my country as 'Old Europe'. Throughout the course of the last two years I have heard hundreds of similar slurs and insults. Thus have I learned the sad truth about the world. Any feelings of solidarity I had in 2001 have long since been worn down by the constant hypocrisy of the world we live in. I wonder if another similar attack were to take place against America today, how many people here would even care..?

I think 9/11 did it for me. I think all of us were scarred in one way or another without even realizing it..

I'd say there's only one public moment that "stopped my world" so far. Surprisingly, it's not 9/11 even though i live in NY state. I'm just surprised nobody else has said this yet: hearing the 2004 Election results. I'm on EST time, and didn't feel like staying up the whole night, so I went to bed a little distraught seeing how a lot of states were still not called. Upon waking up the next morning, I race to my computer and discover that Bush will still be president. Now, I'm not saying this surprised me (after seeing how close all the polls were) but I was still in a state of shock.

9/11 was less of a big deal to me probably because I had no expectations, no hopes before it happened. However, for the 2004 Election, I followed the coverage so much that a part of me was invested in it, and when it did not turn out the way I wanted that part of my died. I think a lot of people felt like something died that day, which is why you see all these people going through what seems to be the 5 stages of grieving: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

Examples:
denial --> recounting election results
anger --> calling Bush voters "stupid people"
bargaining --> ??? (i can't think of an example, can you even bargain with Bush?)
depression --> aren't some people in therapy for this in Florida now?
acceptance --> maybe we'll get here someday

Anyone else feel that Election 2004 was their "world stopping" event? Maybe I'm just too young...

This gets me every time. I still have to stop and pause a moment, wondering whether to argue with people who don't believe in evolution. Recently I found out my roommate doesn't believe in evolution, or the moon landing. He says they're impossible because they're too complex. Instead of arguing I just let is slide (trying not to let my jaw hang ajar) and ask him why he believe this.



Maybe not quite "world stopping", but it left me feeling down and out for a few days. Looking for answers at the bottom of my...milk glass (since I'm not 21).

~~~~~~

The first real world stopping moment I guess would be 9/11. I was only 17 so it was the first really big thing to happen that left an indelible mark. One of those I-remember-where-I-was moments. It was tragic, and I do remember the feeling I had, as if I was part of an entire country, feeling what they did. A year later I felt like an individual again.

The other event that really shook my world was going to college. I came from a pretty affluent area which had a lot of smart people. Of my group of friends, at least 5 or 8 were National Merit Scholars, and other got Honorable Mentions. I always like hanging out with smart people since they keep me thinking, so being around them was normal to me. But once I came to college (public, but then agin my high school was public too) I felt like I was around a bunch of idiots. At least once a week in my first semester I would do the jaw-hanging-bug-eyed look of "Did he just say the dumbest thing ever?" I was incredible disappointed in my first year of college. I had this thought that the people who made those comments in high school wouldn't be in college because, well, they couldn't get in or didn't want to keep learning. Now I just kind of roll with the punches and the higher level classes are better no doubt, though every once in a while I'll hear something that makes me wonder how that person managed to get into college.

My world stopped with my first positive pregnancy test. I actually shreaked out loud, scaring the dog (my husband was deployed, so he didn't hear me ).

Good point Mrs P- that was definately a world stopper for me, probably the most profound in my life, though, not in the political terms I was thinking in LOL- My wife still teases me, because I kept saying "are you sure?" LOL- Not that I wasn't happy, we had only been married 3 months, and we wanted to wait a year or two, but hey, it worked out better this way, got all that breeding out of the way early on LOL

I was a little too young when Kennedy was assassinated - though I remember being profoundly affected by my father's silence and my mother's tears - and a little too jaded by September 11, 2001 - though I remember being terrified of the political edge it would give the Bush administration (and deeply suspicious of how "convenient" this was for them).

But I have had a few "world-stopping" moments...

Private: On October 12, 1970, I came out to my parents at the age of sixteen. After much wailing and moaning and gnashing of teeth, I was told that they didn't think I could live with them any longer. They moderated their reaction over the following week or so, but I was still shaken by it. They have since come to be quite supportive and have met a number of boyfriends (including, of course, my partner of twenty-four years) and so on, but the initial response is one that struck me on the deepest level: suddenly not knowing one's own parents.

Public: On December 8, 1980, John Lennon was shot and killed in front of the Dakota where he and Yoko Ono had been living in his adopted city, New York. I was living in New York at the time, a few blocks north of the Dakota, and joined the crowd outside the stately apartment building for an all night vigil with my partner, Sean. It was then that we began thinking that the American Dream was becoming a nightmare and that there was no place for us in this country. Less than four months later, Ronald Reagan survived an assassination attempt, giving him unprecedented sympathy - and clout. This was the straw which lead us to leaving America for eighteen years. Lennon's death was more symbolic than anything: an immigrant - and an inspired artist - who loved New York, loved America, gunned down by a sad, sick man for reasons which made no sense. It has come to be a metaphor, to me, for the entire country: sad, sick men destroying hope. "Imagine" no more.

Political: After six years of the Clinton administration, with the Reagan/Bush years becoming just an unsettling memory, it looked as though it might be safe to return to the US. With the new millennium looming and the prospect of a Gore presidency, we thought that the Age of Aquarius was finally about to arrive. November 7, 2000: with Florida called for Al Gore, Sean and I were jubilant. America had won! The horrific prospect of another Bush in the White House was a hideous fear that we could put behind us! We made love and I went out to the grocery store to buy some celebratory drink.

When I returned, Sean's face was ashen. "They've put Florida back in 'undecided'. They're going to do it. They're going to steal the election." He was right. At that moment, the world did, indeed, stop: I lost all faith in our electoral system and, over the coming weeks, our court system, our Constitution, our entire form of government - not to mention the Republican Party's presumption of "morality". In the years since, my worst fears regarding such "leadership" have been realized - and then some. My faith in the system - indeed, in America itself - has not been restored. It may never be.

My worst time ever was when I found out that all my efforts at establishing a relationship with my parents was wasted. I knew that they had very unhappy lives in their childhoods, and were not all that talented as parents go, and I was trying to overlook the first 18 years of my life with them.
BUT, when they drove from Houston, TX to Dover, DE to visit my older brother (much older) and bypass me and my family in Norfolk, VA, that was it. They spent 3 days getting there, stayed about 10 days, and then spent 3 days driving back. My younger brother told me about it about a year later, otherwise I would never have known.
If they had told me they were coming, I would have made it easy on them, and driven up for a day or 2.
I called my dad and asked for an explanation, and got none.
Lucky for me I had great in-laws to take the place of what I could never get from my own parents.
Out of 5 kids, they only seemed to love the first and last.
Now, anytime someone tells me I am messed up, I tell them that they should see the environment I came from. They would be impressed that I turned out as well as I did.
And on a more public issue, 9/11 will always stick in my mind as a turning point in history.

I don't have one.
9/11 was bad but I didn't suddenly become terrified of Terrorism or Islam like so many others.
I was more upset with my government for failing so badly to do its most basic job.
Although the image of a woman falling to her death after being blown out of the building by the intesne heat left an permanent impression. Strangely more than 9/11 itself.
Such a tiny little figure falling so very far. So much time to realize that it was not a horrible dream and that she was about to die. What goes through ones head--sheer terror, a list of things left undone or unsaid.

I was actvely trying for children so the pregnancy test was a cause for celebration.

The Berlin Wall and the fall of Communism was kind of meaningless for me. No real sense of triumph. It just seemed inevitable really.

The christian right makes me nervous with them so close to taking power and forming their own Supreme Council for American Purity--but even that doesn't make me too nervous.
Saw a great sign once that said "Got questions about the afterlife- Trespass and I'll settle them for you".

Ended up homeless once after the collapse of my first marriage--living in a city park--just inspiration for working a little harder and it made me realize that I actually wanted a family and that I somehow want to help kids learn--and that learning should be vigorously pursued and enjoyed.

I know that if one of my 2 children--My son who is a supercharged adrenal junky at age 2 or my soon to be hatched daughter who is kicking Momma to death--OMG I gotta pee! I would be devasted beyond recovery. That keeps me awake at night sometimes. All the things that can go wrong and the potential for accidents

I wish i could afford a Waltons size family. Children are a beautiful thing and family is a gift. If you don't like yours we may have some space availible-- we're BIG on holidays and family get togethers. Christmas alone takes up ALL of December and anything that can be decorated has at Least glitter on it.


Other than that life is Potential
There is something always just ahead
and no matter how bad it gets--It always gets better.

My first memory of something "big" was watching the Berlin Wall being banged at with sledge hammers. I was very young though so it didnt really affect me much because I didnt know what was going on.

9/11 is really the day that made me stop to think about things. Before then I always had an errie feeling that Americans felt invulnerable to attack. A false sense of security. So 9/11 wasnt as much of a surprise to me. I was in bed when it happened and my fiance woke me up loudly saying something about a plane and a tower. I couldnt really make it out because I was still half asleep. Eventually I got up and saw the tower smoking then shortly after the second plane hit. I always knew that terrorist's where out there and remember thinking that it an attack like this was bound to happen sometime because we never really did much about it.

9/11 was a heat seeking missile of reality for what I had always suspected.



This statment is not talking about France or Russia being against us. It is stating either you are harboring terrorists in which case you are considered a hostile regime or you are hunting them down if they are within your borders.

It cut's away the camouflage.

State deniability is a key component to terrorism's success.

Bill, I can feel your pain all too seriously.

The first for me was when little Gracie came running across the street and told me that ' your mom told my mom you arent even their real kid, you were adopted!'
I was shocked. I asked my mother about it and the best she could say was, ' I told you about that, dont you remember?' That was a lie.

We used to leave our house unlocked. Once the family was out to dinner and our house was broken into and grafitti was written all over the walls, there was silly string in the fish tank that killed all the fish. My parents set to beat us one by one until one of us admitted to the destruction. I was the oldest. I went about this facade for a round or so until I spoke..'we were with you, we could not have done this', and then we were excused, I suppose in the face of reality. It was then I realized my parents were crazy. I was about 8 years old.

There have been alot of little stoppings since. Times you see that people are crazy, mostly with fear. I think more than world stopping, I am overwhelmingly appalled at the ignorance.

The day my world stopped...

1. It stopped the day I wanted to kill myself, but didn't.

2. It stopped the day I found peace in my heart, and time didn't matter anymore.

3. It stopped the day when my grandfather died.

4. It stopped the day I asked my wife to marry me! Yeah!