Remembering September 11th

Some crazy pilot lost control and hit one of the World Trade Center’s Twin Towers.  That was my initial reaction to the witchy sight of that plane firing into the first skyscraper.  I had just tuned into the news around 5:55 am on that now infamous day of 9/11/01.  In my heart, I knew this was no accident, but I made myself believe so until the second plane missiled into tower number two.  My kids had to assemble themselves for school.  My son, 13, was upset, but my 16 year old daughter was in her own denial.  As anxiety crept through me, and tears of worry spilled, she admonished me for getting emotional.  As she is very sensitive, I knew she wasn’t yet ready to face this unfolding truth of horrors.  She was in her own denial.

After calling my husband to give him the horrendous news, the kids and I gathered our things to head out the door into an already very different world from when the door was last shut.  Is this what we were supposed to be doing?  Going on our merry way when the world seemed to be collapsing?  Surely, leading a meeting was the last thing I wanted to be doing.  I wanted to hunker down with the family intact. 

But it was business as usual even as those poor innocent people were reported to be jumping out of windows to escape the burning steel and glass torches.  I drove on blindly in disbelief as one tower than the other imploded on itself instantly taking several thousand lives.  It was surreal.  Traffic here was the same as always.  Just another day in Portland, Oregon.  Or so it seemed.  Later on, I would learn that all of us in our own ways had clicked into robotic mode, absorbing shock to the heart and soul.  Go about the day because no one knew what else to do.  That afternoon we gathered around the small office TV to learn about all the horrific day’s events:  Twin Towers gone, the Pentagon struck by a third plane, and another airplane disintegrated after plunging into a Pennsylvania field.  We would find out afterwards about the heroics on that now infamous Flight 93.

We were allowed to leave work early.  It was a beautiful, clear-blue-skyed, late summer’s day.  As I waited for the return of the school bus, I recognized immediately the absence of any air traffic.  The feeling of powerlessness, of stopping our travels because of terrorist threats was overwhelming and the too quiet airspace was very eerie. 

So today, I remember.  I remember the emotions, feelings and deep sorrow.  I am so sorry for all the innocent lives lost, and for the rescuers forging ahead in their brave duty who sacrificed their lives for all of us.  It was through these extraordinary firefighters and policemen and women that we were able to hold onto their actions with a swelling pride that allowed us to stand up again.  Yes, those heroic service providers helped us immensely, as did some ordinary folks on Flight 93.  God bless everyone who lost his or her life nine years ago.  God bless the family, friends and co-workers left behind to grapple with this tragedy.  We will remember.  9/11/10

About andreamarjulie

Just trying to navigate a life circumvented by chronic migraines. Sometimes I write about managing with those, but at other times I am prone to deviate a bit.
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