Always Remember

Today is the 11^th anniversary of the September 11^th terrorist attacks on the United States. Living in New York for my entire life it is sometimes hard to remember that on that day there was also death and destruction outside of the Twin Towers. The entire country was affected and we have to remember those killed in Pennsylvania and Washington D.C. Everyone murdered that day was someone’s child and all of them were too young to die.

When I was a kid I remember hearing, “I’ll never forget what I was doing when I heard that _____ died.” Usually people were referring to JFK or Elvis or John Lennon. I will never forget where I was when I heard that the first plane had hit. I worked at a small non-profit and every morning I walked to the convent (yup, one with real nuns) to pick up our newspapers. That beautiful crisp morning I walked in and the switchboard operator was watching the television like she did every morning. This morning something was different. Instead of Maury or Jerry Springer she was watching the news. She told me a plane had hit one of the Twin Towers and we watched as smoke billowed out from the side of the building. I quickly headed back to my office. When I arrived back at the office we turned on the TV and watched the second plane go into the South Tower. We knew then that it was a terrorist attack.

My only thoughts were of my brother. He lived (and still lives) in Brooklyn but he had planned on going into Manhattan to look for a job. I knew it was a long shot that he was even near the Twin Towers but I knew it was probably chaos in the city no matter where he was. I tried calling his cell phone and all I kept getting was a busy signal. I was listening to Howard Stern (who was still on terrestrial radio) and they said that all cell phones were knocked out because the cell tower was on top of one of the Towers. My mother and aunt both called me in a panic and I told them not to worry that Erik would call when he got to a regular phone. He eventually did call and then he watched from his roof as the first tower fell. He was lucky enough to get on a train out of the city before they shut them down and he stayed with us for a few days.

That day was such a shock to me and I only knew 2 people who were there and both got out alive. My second cousin’s husband worked for Xerox and was in the building during the bombing of 1993 and again on 9/11. He survived both but after walking home to Queens that day he vowed to never work in a high rise again. I can’t say that I blame him.

The days and weeks that followed were heart wrenching. I cried every single day and didn’t know if it would ever get better. The fires still burning for days, video of the planes hitting each building, people leaping to their deaths, hoards of people fleeing the buildings as they collapsed, people covered in that white dust, the sound of the firemen’s alarms, photos of the “missing” plastered everywhere, the families crying and pleading for help, the funerals for those whose bodies had been found. The sorrow people must have felt when they finally grasped that their loved ones were not “missing” but among the rubble of those 2 magnificent buildings. I still cannot imagine how those people were able to pull it together and get out of bed. I think I would have lost it.

It is hard to believe that 11 years has passed. My life is completely different than it was then. I moved out of my parents house, got married, lost 35 pounds, bought a house, struggled with infertility, adopted a beagle, gained 40 pounds, gave birth to a healthy baby boy…my life will continue to change and this day will always remain the same. I will always think of the ball in the pit of my stomach and feeling so sad for all of the victims…that feeling is less now but I will never forget.