In Memorium

I've struggled for some time now with what to write about on this heartbreaking anniversary. Like all of you, I remember exactly where I was when I watched the horrible events that seemed too surreal to be true. Still single, I was on the phone with my friend Barrie, both of us tuned in to The Today Show trying to make sense of what we were seeing. I remember sitting in complete silence for long stretches as the flames engulfed the buildings and newscasters struggled to make sense of the senseless. I'm not sure why we stayed on the phone when neither of us was talking for most of the time, but I guess we both felt the need for some connection at what seemed a total disconnect from reality as we knew it.

On September 11, 2001, my father was a commercial airline pilot for a major carrier and just happened to be scheduled to fly out of New York that day. For a brief time when I could not reach him by cell phone and the news had yet to report the airline that had been hijacked, I imagined the worst. When he finally phoned, safe from the cockpit where all planes were on indefinite hold, I could barely contain my emotions. I was so thankful he'd been spared, but so completely overwhelmed with what was happening. My brother also lived in NYC at the time and was able to see the smoke and smell the debris from his apartment in Gramercy Park.

But it was the experience of a close cousin that brought the events home to me on that day. Having just moved back to the United States from Israel (partially due to her family's concerns over terrorism), she had recently taken a job in the World Trade Center. Fortuitously late for work that day, she was on the subway when the attacks occurred. When she arrived at the site all hell was breaking loose and she was at the scene just as the buildings fell. She told me she took off her shirt and placed it over her nose and mouth so she could breathe among the dirt and dust and just started running, thinking that she'd jump into the water if she came to the edge of the island. Thankfully, she emerged from that day physically fine, if not emotionally shattered.

We all have our stories. We all share in the collective memory of 9-11. My children will learn about this horrible atrocity in history books while we watched it unfold in real time in person or on live television. I remember feeling that, for a brief period following the attacks, society became a bit more civilized. Americans seemed to feel a sense of camaraderie as if we were "all in this together" and many of us acted with such kindness and respect toward one another. Like the buildings themselves, harsh exteriors fell away leaving only a shell of what had been and a human race striped bare of emotion was forced to rebuild from the ground up. I remember feeling that I wish it hadn't taken such a tragic event to create such a positive byproduct, but alas, like the day itself, it was short-lived. All too soon we resumed our lives, many of us as if nothing were amiss, save for the additional hassles at the airport and occasional stories of rumored terrorist plots.

But for so many, life will never be the same. Over the past few weeks, I've read countless stories of families who lost loved ones and have spent the past decade trying to glean meaning from the lives of those that were cut tragically short. Many have established memorials, camps, scholarships and other philanthropic endeavors to help bring light where there was once only darkness. Children have grown up without mothers or fathers, getting to know their lost loved ones through pictures and second-hand stories. It all seems so unfair. Yet, we go on. We have no choice but to move forward while this horrific day recedes further away in time.

There is a Jewish tradition that calls for a memorial candle to be lit in a house of mourning immediately after a death in the family or to commemorate the anniversary of that death. While my family was fortunate enough not to have lost any immediate members on 9-11, we will light a candle today for all of those who lost their lives. I pray that their souls and those of their families have found peace and that while their lives were extinguished that day, that the spark of their being lives on through the good deeds and memories of those who loved them.

As a young girl, one of the first times I really came into contact with the idea of grief was through reading the book, "The Diary of Anne Frank". It's been years since I've read the thoughts and brilliant observations of the teenage Anne who suffered such a terrible fate but remained an optimist til the very end. So much of her writing still rings true and as I struggle to come to grips with the pain and suffering that characterize this day it's her profound words that bring me comfort.

"I don't think of all the misery, but of all the beauty that still remains."

I pray that my children and my children's children never know first-hand of such loss and devastation. I wish I could say the world today is a different (safer and more positive) place than it was 10 years ago. May we all do what we can to move in that direction during the days and years to come.