I had just layed to rest my Uncle the day before. It was a nice Military Service. He had been a Marine. When the first plane crashed I was on my way to my sisters to visit with her and my mother and discuss other things regarding my uncle. I had the radio on and the music was interupted by the DJ to report the first plane. I got to my sisters to find her and my mother crying...the 2nd plane had just hit. I sat with them a while in disbelief and then and retrieved my children from school. Unfortunately one of the children's parents in my son's class was on Flight 11. I did a lot of thinking and re-evaluation of my life from that day forward and spilled out some thoughts onto a piece of paper.
Why am I so special?
I found myself driving home from work today listening to the radio as I would any other day…….but it isn’t any other day. It is Thursday, September 13, 2001. Only two days after the unleashed horror on The World Trade Center, The Pentagon, American Airlines flight #11 and flight #77, along with United Airlines flight #175 and #93.
A song comes on the radio. It’s a mix of the events of these horrors and the singer Jewel’s “Hands” song. I am once again overcome with the most grief I have ever experienced in my life. I am crying so hard that I have to pull over. Hiding my face in my hands so that I wouldn’t be seen by the cars that are really going by to fast to even notice me. How could something so devastating happen in what we call a “civilized” world? Who could be so inhuman and monstrous to do such acts of evil? My head is spinning and then along with all these questions and thoughts, I have guilt. Why am I so special? What spared me, my family and my friends from these horrendous events? A zip code? A trip unplanned?
Our lives are supposed to go on unfeared, but it will not. I feel nothing but fear and guilt because my life is just supposed to just go on. “Don’t succumb to the fear these terrorist are working so hard to put us through” is what we are told, but can we? Can we really? Before 8:30 a.m. Tuesday we could. We lived in somewhat of a fantasy world where we could be untouched by such things. This kind of terror could only happen away from home, and even then we would be shocked at such things. Now we have been exposed to the rash reality that we are not as invincible as we thought.
I get back on the road looking around at the traffic around me. “How are we doing this?” I ask myself. “How are we getting up and going off to work or school as if nothing happened?” We talk about it in work and at school. Talk about the horror and devastation and we get angry and we cry, but then we go on with our work. As I work, I find I am constantly checking the Internet or a co-workers radio to hear the updates. “Have they found any more survivors?” “Have we decided to go to war?” “Have they caught that bastard?”
Will I have these nightmares every night? I think about all those lives lost and I weep. I grieve for them all, their families, and friends, as I am sure the world does along with me. We will grieve forever.
My children ask, “Are we safe Mom?” How do I answer that? I picked up my son from school Tuesday, and he told me that one of his best friends parents were on American Airlines #11 and that his grandmother came to pick him up. This child knew his parents were on flight #11 and watched it fly right into the World Trade Center right on television at school. How do you explain to a child that a madman has just taken his parents away in the manner they were taken?
I think about the argument I had with my sister yesterday………..so trivial. I think about how I scolded my daughter today about her room………trivial once again. When again was it when I last spoke to my father? Why didn’t I call my mother before she drove back up to New Hampshire Wednesday morning and tell her to drive safely and call me when she got home? How lucky I am to have them here in my life. How very, very fortunate I am.
Why am I so special?
Laura ******
9/13/01
