story7191.xml

story7191.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2002-09-13

It has been said that life goes on. It will; but it will never be the same.
When I think about what I have to do today, tomorrow, the next day, I feel so selfish. I cannot help but think of the days ahead for those families of the victims. My life seems so immaterial now compared to the pain and anguish faced by those people.

I tried to recollect the day?s events and remember my friend...

I was just settling into my job, had not yet made the daily cup of coffee when my co-workers were buzzing with terrified excitement. Something horrible had just happened. An unfortunate accident. We all quickly logged into CNN...or tried too. Communications were slow...then the news hit...we all scrambling to the TV set in the conference room desperately seeking any bit of information to help us to understand what was happening.

Everyone jumped on the phone calling loved ones and anyone they knew who may have information. Emotions ran in every direction. Rage, outrage, fear, relief, compassion, love and hatred all mixed up. I called family members in NYC to be assured that they had not become victims. I thought of my friend who worked for United Airlines. Surely she would know what was going on. She worked out of Logan as a customer service rep. She had planned a brief trip to Las Vegas - The Venetian Hotel at that! She had called just a few days earlier to tell me of a last minute deal she found on the web! How lucky she was! ... She told me...a cancellation had occurred opening up a room in the hotel. I had forgotten the date she was flying so I expected her to be home or on her way home, since the airport had now been shut down. I was expecting to hear her voice but I just heard the phone ring. The answering machine was not picking up. ?She must be on her way home from work? I thought. I tried again in a while and heard the familiar ring. ?Nothing so tragic could ever impact my life or the lives of anyone I know? I naively thought.

I took advantage of the offer from the president of the company to head home. I had valid concerns about the safety of my family in the event of an attack to the Boston area. No one really knew what to expect. No one expected this.

I left and headed home. My mind wondering how this could have happened. My faith shaken at the absence of the love that has been professed to be bestowed on all. My stomach was sick. I had so much emotion yet I felt so empty.

The sun was brightly shining as it hit the steps in front of me. I gazed at the colorful flowers that gracefully adorned the walkway. The sky was the perfect ?sky-blue? and there was not a cloud to be seen. It was quiet. Oh, what a perfect late summer day! That was my brief thought as I left the building.

I was trying to appreciate the beautiful day that I wished so hard would linger long into the winter, as summer had been so short. But as I think about that, thousands of innocent people lay dead in the aftermath of the most horrific event in US history. I slowly made my way to my car. I could view the traffic as I walked. The expressway was certainly not that at all, as the traffic southbound had come to a halt. Even the northbound traffic was creeping along. I felt my face fall as my heart ached and my stomach turned. I along with everyone else was screaming for answers. None came. There was an unusually loud silence.

I got in my car and started to drive. I wondered about the next step as I wondered what was still to come. I tried to cry but couldn?t. Tears could not wash away the pain or clear the sky of the cloud of smoke hovering over NYC. The tears were right there, but could not fall?

It is amazing how such an event could cripple the US. It is amazing that human life is not respected. It is amazing that some people can celebrate the pain of a nation.

I sit in traffic, not as bad as I expected but it gives me a chance to reflect, to sort out and try to understand. I look ahead and I see Old Glory flying gracefully atop a building, seemingly unaware of what was happening. The gentle breeze waves the fabric in a calm peaceful manner. The bright red, the crisp white and the royal blue are majestic against the ?sky blue? above. A quiet statement of strength. A patriotic reminder that we, as a nation, will survive. I felt a sense of peace creep between the rage and pain.

I stopped at my mom?s house. I hugged her. Told her I was going to get my daughter from school. I was heading home and would call her later. I phoned the school and was informed as to how this act was being handled. The children were fine. All was as normal. That was good. I phoned my friend again. Someone answered the phone. I felt relief! I had forgotten how much she and her mother had sounded so alike on the phone. The words came through the receiver loud and clear, but somehow they took longer to reach me. ?She was on the plane? was all I heard. It echoed over and over. I had no words of comfort to offer. I felt helpless. What could I say even if words came to me? I offered myself to whatever extent needed and hung up. Tears broke and I wept deeply. I called my own mother. She wept with me. She then came to me to be here for me. I was trying to understand. Hoping it was not true, coming up with possible scenarios to place my friend out of harms way. Reality won.

How do I explain to my child that my friend, the one who just a few short days prior took her to Disney World, who laughed and screamed as they plummeted down Splash Mountain, is among the passengers who faced their death with fear in their eyes?
How do you explain to a child the mindset of people who have no regard for human life?

I remember being glued to the TV. I could not help but long for hope. Please let there be some good news?let there be survivors! I morbidly waited as names were displayed across the networks. I still did not see her name. Maybe!..I hoped. It was a slow process and as the days passed and the lists became complete, her name appeared. Her name appeared on the news and in the newspapers and on every web-site that compiled information about 9/11. Although I knew she was on the plane, and I saw the list, I still hoped that she would be a survivor. I saw the planes fly into the towers and I saw the two towers tumble, yet I held on to the hope that there would be a survivor, a miracle beyond miracles. I watch and waited.

I remember having trouble dealing with the reality of this tragedy as it was unfolding. Today I still cannot believe it. There is no closure. There never will be.

My friend perished in the blaze aboard flight 11. She was a fighter and I am sure that she did what she could to prevent those men from trying to go into the cockpit. She had a first class seat. She was right there ? front row. I am sure that she stood up for what was right. She is a hero as all who were on that plane and the other planes are. As the plane crashed through the tower with what I can imagine as terrified faces of those aboard, I envision her smiling face. Her lively personality, her generous spirit, her laughter is what I think of. Her life was short. Life is short. I will remember this day as the longest in my life. I will remember my friend forever.