As many people are doing today, I am taking time to remember the tragedy of 9/11. Andy and I were still home when the news of the first tower being hit came on TV. Peter was our only child, and about 16 months old at the time. I had just gotten out of the shower, and walked into our room to see the image which by now is imprinted on our minds and hearts. Panic set in as I tried to remember whether or not my brother was in New York on business. Frantically, I called his house. He answered-thank God! He also reassured me that this was an accident-pilot error. After all, which of us could comprehend at that point that someone could intentionally do this? As we were talking, we saw the second plane hit the other tower. What the hell was happening?
Andy got ready and left for work. I remember hugging him a little longer that day, and telling him to be careful. For Peter and I, I decided we would go to my Mom's for the day. I just needed my Mama-my sister, Mary had the same idea. The three of us sat there that day in disbelief. We would see the Pentagon get hit, hear of the plane crash in Pennsylvania, and watch the towers fall. Mary and I held our babies-Tim was 16 months as well. The world as we knew it was about to change.
I remember being fearful for my father. He was a salesman, and had many clients who were from the middle-East. He went to work that day, even though my Mom asked him not to. There were some clients who had known my Dad for years who said that America was getting what it deserved. What a sad day. I am thankful he was safe.
So, seven years later, we remember. We pray for the families who lost loved ones, for the babies yet to be born that day who never knew their fathers, for the children who live with out a parent. I still am fearful as every anniversary approaches, and thankful when the day passes. My mama and my daddy may be gone as well, but I am so thankful that I had them to cling to that day and in the days and weeks to come. We will never forget.