TL’s blog touched posed among other questions, this one: “Those of you who are that naive, what were your feelings on 9/11? Try to remember, if you are capable of remembering back that far, and then tell me how you will feel when the school where your kids attend is attacked by the same type of terrorist. Try to put into words, so someone as simple and dumb as myself can understand, what YOU think we should do.

So… as many can say very *exactly* where they were & remember vividly what they felt upon hearing that President Kennedy had been shot … I can tell U (& I am getting chills right now simply writing this) very *exactly* where I was when I heard about the 1st plane, & then the 2nd …. & the horror & lack of any comfort realizing that 4 the first time since I became a mother … that knowing intellectually where each of my 3 children were … & being reassured they were safe did not quell the panic that started 2 consume me …. A panic that continued 2 resurface until I could physically touch & hug each of them, look into each one’s eyes & know they were really safe … a feeling I never want 2 ever feel again … 4 it felt as if this fear, this helplessness, threatened 2 overtake me … especially upon learning about Flight 93 – & perhaps it is a fear only a mother feels … 4 it became so blinding 4 me – that facts become irrelevant … all I knew was my children weren’t with me, our country was under attack … & one of those planes was very, very close 2 home … my home, our home … in our state, in our PA.

Yes, my 1st reflex was 2 call the school & did & I was told the students were safe, that things were under control, please do not come & get them … chaos will surely ensue if every parent descends on the schools … & upon hanging up, I burst into tears … 4 I knew they were right & there was nothing I could do but feel more helpless than I had ever before … unable 2 see, 2 hear, 2 talk 2, 2 protect & the 1st time in my life that I could not comfort each of my children …

And so … I can tell you *exactly* how I felt as I drove home … flipping on the radio as automatic a reflex as putting on my seatbelt … & hearing the news report on the 1st tower … the 2nd still 2 come … had I really just left the grocery store? As I listened I fumbled 4 my cell, calling my husband at his local high tech start up company … so connected by all matter & means of computer technology it resembled a control center at NASA … I was shocked 2 learn that he, that NO ONE, not one person at this small local company had yet heard … but as we talked, I heard the voices in the background & I knew, he knew … the ignorant bliss of living safely in the country from sea 2 shining sea … was dying tiny deaths as each person learned what had happened, what was happening, … not knowing what was still 2 come…. I told him about the school, & as I turned into the neighborhood – we hung up … I turned back up the radio, only 2 hear the short staccato near breathless news reporter trying 2 put sentences together 2 report news of the 2nd plane … I really don’t remember pulling into the driveway, let alone the garage or even going into the house … I do remember standing in front of the television, my purse still on my shoulder, holding my cell in one hand & the cordless in the other ……groceries long 4gotten ………… & as I stood there staring at or having stare back at me … our television, what up until this morning would have only been a horrific science fiction movie … was playing out before me …. As I watched I simply could not tell if what I was seeing was the ‘replay’ of planes 1 & 2 or was it a 3rd … or worse … in the time I heard in the car of the 2nd … was there not just a 3rd, but a 4th, a 5th & a 6th …. A very evil, very twisted symphony playing out …

When the phone rang it didn’t register & only its intruding persistence cause me 2 answer it … the voice at the other end sounded familiar, but I really couldn’t place it … was it my mother? No it was my father … “Were we okay?” he asked me. “Were we anywhere near the plane being reported in PA?” he wanted 2 know. I just couldn’t focus enough 2 say any other than mumble that we were all accounted 4 & I said good-bye … I learned later that I didn’t push the off button & so 4 several hours anyone attempting 2 reach me who didn’t have my cell … was unable 2….

What was possibly the moment of greatest horror was that evening … when now the replays were fewer & the devastation & the news of who … the news of if … but trying 2 give reassurance 2 the kids … that was the very hardest … our youngest was barely 5, had been in kindergarten … she seemed 2 know something was terribly wrong but was comforted 2 be in her home, w/ mom & dad, sissy & big brother… safely locked from the outside world … our oldest was just about 2 turn 15 & as a young man, well, acted …. like a protector 4 his baby sister, his younger sister, & me, his mom… but I overheard him asking his father questions in the next room … questions in a voice that trembled, & held uncertainty … 4 this was the United States, “This is American, we’re in America, Dad! This doesn’t happen here, this happens in Israel or wherever … but, Dad, not here, right?” Our oldest daughter was only 12 … & by far this impacted her the greatest … too young 2 give herself permission 2 stay in the safety of some sort of ignorant bliss like her little sister, but not old enough & not a guy like her brother & so unable to put on a brave face & the false bravado 2 go w/ it… & so she cried, & was adamant that she be allowed to huddle w/ her father on the couch & watch the replays … that was a tough call for my husband & I …. But it was when the President, yes President Bush, came on that we saw our daughter nearly transformed ….. Our daughter sat up straight, she leaned into the TV and listened with rapt attention as our President, her President, President George W. Bush delivered the best speech of his life. And when he was done, we prayed as a family for our country, for our president, for everyone … everyone near & far who was like us, absorbing this, 4 up until now, the very unheard of, the very unthinkable … when the Amen’s were said, I watched her, her body was relaxed, her face visibly relieved .. & why … well she wrote a poem later about it … & it was about her feelings, & how they came 2 rest after the President’s speech because she again regained her sense of safety that came from remembering that she was an American. And like my daughter, I have felt pride in being an American many times in my life … & this was one of them.

We received several calls the following day. There is nothing light about what happened on 9-11… the closest thing was the call my husband received from his Uncle. His Uncle told him that his cousin had been spared her life because, in her own words, “years of being chronically late had paid off … she unlike many, was alive.

The 2 calls I received were anything but light & I will not ever 4get them… the 1st was from one of 2 of my childhood & bff’s, as the kids are fond of calling their best friends forever … the 1st call was good, as good as it could get, so 2 speak… her older sister having survived the 1st bombing on the Trade Center in 1993 … had indeed survived this one … she survived it because, like my husband’s cousin, she wasn’t there … she survived because her son was sick, she survived because her husband couldn’t cover her, & so she stayed home … & her little boy’s 24 hour virus … saved her life … but she quit her high paying job, & moved their family far away … but/& she was spared her life …. But her sister & I talk every day … & she is not, will not, ever be the same ….

It was the 2nd call that is so vivid it seems that words cannot accurately paint what I was told, & the mental pictures I seem 2 have stored away remain as still black & white photos in an album… 4 the kitchen my friend described was one I had been in as a child … & though those gathered in that kitchen were older than when I saw them every day … I can tell U exactly how I felt as my 2nd bff told me what was told to her … I knew by her voice the news wasn’t good… it was flat … so very unlike my friend the accomplished pianist, the artist, & writer I knew her 2 B… I also knew what she would tell me, & she did, that our friend, my 1st boyfriend Pat, had not been spared his life … He was in one of the towers … I knew this 4 he was a very successful stock broker, who was not married & did not have children … & that, 4 all, was the sole saving grace … last we had talked he had said, “I’m only 38 … I’m a guy … I have loads of time!” … classic Pat … we had lost touch 4 a time, though our parents still lived in the neighborhood we grew up in & in the same houses we would return 2 on those long endless August summer nights after a hard day of skipping stones or fishing at the near by creek … his brother had married my friend’s older sister’s husband’s sister … now that sounds like classic Faith … but it was a small town, there are so many like them … & so it was connections such as these that kept out of state friends in the know & prompted the occasional beer when all were home at the same time 4 the holidays …. But that picture quickly flashed past me perhaps giving me enough of a shock absorber that as she continued I sat on the couch … as if innately knowing what was 2 come required the unspoken question, “Are U sitting down?” …. She said that his family had been at his parents house … waiting, praying, & hoping 4 some communication … any word of him at all … And when the phone rang, I imagined, though she did not say, it shattered each one there as if they were made of glass … His father had picked up the phone & heard his son’s voice … She said that her sister had told her that his dad, not knowing what was 2 come, had put the phone on speaker so all those who were gathered in their prayerful vigil 4 Pat’s safety, 4 his survival - could each actually hear him say, “I’m okay. It is okay. It is *not* as bad as it sounds … really, I *am* okay…..” Among those in that kitchen, were Pat’s 4 brothers, 3 older, 1 younger … & of course his mother, & when something triggers this memory, I sometimes wonder if Pat’s dad ever got over whatever he felt wrt putting the phone on speaker that day nearly 8 years ago…. For none of them got over losing him... not one of his friends collected through childhood, college, & then his shining career, not one of his girlfriends, not one of his many nieces & nephews … as Pat was *the* favorite uncle …. most certainly not one of his brothers did, each of them fixtures at my childhood home 4 as long as I remember until I left 4 college out of state. I doubted as I listened that his dad would ever really smile again, but it his mom that I think of, my mother’s bff … each of them having children almost in sync, 2 of their sons born on the same September day … but his mother’s losses had been great 2 date, & could she stand one more …. I’m thinking 7 ½ years have passed … no his mother had NOT gotten over losing her 3rd son … & she never would ….

My friend said that when they heard Pat’s voice, that his mother, had gasped, jumped up from her chair, & crossing herself had dropped the rosary that she had squeezed so tightly in her palm that it had the marks of each bead … for all those there, the phone ringing in & of itself was as if a miracle was occurring … 4 in the time they waited & waited … I am supposing it must have felt as if they were all suspended above hell itself … & b4 that ringing phone shattered the silence that had up until then spoken loudly that someone would call … tonight, tomorrow, w/ what they did not want 2 but w/ each passing moment expected 2 hear … so in those few moments from the time the phone rang & Pat’s voice was heard …. I am supposing that they felt as if God has literally, like the Passover, placed them on a short list for death 2 pass over their family that day… but that belief lasted only 4 seconds … vanishing w/ what their son, their brother then said … & from that moment 4ward … each one’s faith was tested 2 the point … that 4 some it was lost 4ever… because this is what Pat said, “Mom, Dad, … everyone …. I am calling 2 tell U I love U. I am calling 2 tell U that …. That … I, we, us, we, our floor, we aren’t going 2 make it out … but I love U each … Mom, I love U … Mom, R U there? Mom, R U listening? Mom, it will be okay.…” And then I am told that the signal was gone & with it their beloved son & brother.

They didn’t find his remains for nearly a year … the wait was excruciating & once notified … though there should have been closure … the wound was too deep, too gaping …

Perhaps this sounds exaggerated … but honestly it is not only not exaggerated but less than … a lot less than … his oldest brother called me the next day & we talked a long time … we relived childhood memories, & after we got caught up … & there was nothing left 2 say but what he had called 2 talk about… he cried, his grief came through the phone … I knew that as the oldest in this large family of boys, now men … it absolutely laid heavily on him 2 be strong, 2 stay strong …., & it was of the tiniest relief that he perceived that he could cry & not only would I not think less of him, but I would cry with him … & w/ that shared expression of our great loss … even if diminished 4 only a time … it was enough 4 him 2 talk … he told me about that day … moment by moment … the days before, when he last saw his brother, talked 2 him, what they had talked about … & it became clear that my bff had called me ahead 2 brace me 4 what was 2 come … the following day his youngest brother called … we talked, we cried & we comforted each other… his other older brother, who shared his birthday w/ one of my older brothers … emailed me the week after … his emails were short at first & w/ each one they became longer & much harder 2 read … we all met 4 a beer the next I came 2 town … we shared memories … & I saw how deep the sadness could B seen in each one’s eyes … but by night’s end I also saw each of them smile at his memory … so they say time heals all wounds … yes it does … but the scars … the scares remain, & are often ugly, & sometimes we are only brave enough 2 look at them w/ a friend, a friend we share our history with we share memories with … we share deep life changing losses with …

Respectfully,

Faith

PS It is often said that we should never forget … & this is one of those times… Never forget when we passionately blog & debate … that we can, that we do because we are the greatest nation on earth, …, but also remember, … my experience above is but one of many … many … & do not let yourself 4get that at 8:48 AM, on Tuesday, 11 September 2001 … we all as Americans … passed from childlike naive bliss to a very real, very ugly reality … so *do* remember 2 look at that scar … albeit fading … it may cause a vivid memory that will not cause U 2 panic .. but empower U 2 remember … what was, is no longer …

PPS I renamed my lost friend … out of his family’s unasked but deserved privacy … so I gave my dear lost friend the name of my great grandfather & also his father …. 4 all were Irish, all were proud … & some of who told me what & when I altered 4 the same purpose … but this is factual account & one I hope that honor’s his memory …