story20327.xml

story20327.xml

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2006-09-08

Although, I was very fortunate not to have lost anyone close to me as a result of the attacks on 9/11, a part of my heart remains a slow bleed. I know that part of the human experience is to walk through the various levels of grief that life presents to us. Two experiences from which I have not yet healed stand out among all the rest - the very unexpected death of my mother and the attack on our country on September 11, 2001. I was working at the corporate headquarters for the private security company who was responsible for the passenger screening of United 93. Although the private security industry was riddled with infractions, the company was healthy, prosperous, and a fun place to work. I loved the work I did and was planning to retire with the organization. I remember like it was yesterday standing in my cubicle listening to the news of what was unfolding before our American eyes. Heavy traffic jammed the Internet. Two planes had hit the WTC towers, and now a plane had slammed into the Pentagon ... I thought my heart would stop. The phone at my desk rang - it was a co-worker in NYC trying to explain to me that we were under attack. I have never heard these words spoken and as an American, I was not supposed to hear these words. I am a Jersey Girl. My father is a native New Yorker. I have cousins who were born and raised in NYC and still reside in the very apartment in which they were born. I was still reeling from the death of my mother, and at that moment, I needed to call her, but couldnt. This could not be happening. I watched one of my young co-workers trembling while dialing the phone to call her new husband. She was frightened, and I was frightened for her, for me, for my country, and for what I did not know was happening. My employer took an enormous hit, both financially and emotionally. We were bombarded with ugly press, and received external emails condemning us murderers. We worked long hours to accommodate the media calls, the calls to and from the airlines who were our clients, and the FAA. I don't think I slept the first five nights after the attack. I kept my television on around the clock. Staying close to any live coverage in some way provided me a sense of connectedness to everyone else like me who was walking around in an emotional haze. My parents died two years apart, and I needed to hear their voices. My home, a small apartment, a place where I always felt safe, only magnified the fact that I was truly alone in a time when I didnt want to be alone. I have always been a strong woman. In addition to losing my parents, I lost many close friends over the years to cancer, AIDS, car accidents, and suicide. I deal with my grief with dignity. Except for a tear or two in front of a close friend, I do not publicly emote. My friend and co-worker in New York who called me to say we were being attacked lost his brother-in-law in the World Trade Center. I cried for months following the that year. Autumn was heavy with grief, winter became depressing, we then went to war. Less than two years after 9/11, my company was bought and sold, and sold again, never to be what we once were. Although to my disappointment and worry, my position was dissolved. I left having made several close friends who are now a part of my life. These friendships were born out of tragedy and heartache.

My nephew, now a Captain in the 101st Airborne, was ordered to Iraq a short time after the US invasion. I prayed for him daily and hoped he would not come home in a coffin. He was wounded and awarded a Purple Heart while in Iraq. My heart raced at any breaking news of downed helicopters and insurgent attacks. My nephew is home now and he is safe. I see the future when I look at him with his beautiful wife and young baby girl. His younger brother is almost on his way to Army boot camp. I secretly pray for God to watch over them and to not let them bear witness to another attack in their lifetime, yet I know better. Our country is different now, and while to some degree we have all gone on with our lives, I know that what I thought could never happen, could easily happen again. A part of me is gravely concerned. It is as if the world has put on boxing gloves and we are all just waiting for the next punch to send us reeling again. 9/11 has changed me in many ways. I require myself to learn all I can about my countrys political climate, especially globally. I walk up to men and women in uniform and while choking back tears, I thank them for their commitment to keeping us all safe and free. I see the American flag as more than just a symbol, and fly a big one proudly over my house. I am more proud of my country than I have ever been. I do not always agree with the decisions of our leaders, but I support them the best I can. It is what Americans like me do. For me, this time of year used to be all about long, hot summer days and nights. Now, it is a time to begin slowly remembering the painful attack we suffered on our own soil … the day we watched thousands of fellow Americans die before our eyes … the day we walked out of the emotional rubble and into an uncertain future. I do not ask for my heart to heal completely … it would be like shutting the door on so many pained fellow Americans. My heartache is what keeps the memory alive.

September 8, 2006