Never forget

I can't believe it has been 10 years already.

Like most people old enough to remember 9/11, I have a clear memory of where I was that day. I was working for a non-profit; we'd held a golf tournament the day before, so were all going into the office later than usual that day. I was eating breakfast while watching Good Morning America, so I saw it happening live on tv.

I hadn't been speaking to my parents at the time. We'd had a blowout over some differences of opinion, and it escalated to the point that I had moved out and was staying with my boyfriend in Boston.

I remember the total confusion at first- initially everyone thought it was a terrible accident. Then the second plane hit while I was brushing my teeth, and we all realized it wasn't an accident.

Although I wasn't on speaking terms with my parents, I was checking in enough to know that my dad was flying out that day. His company was headquartered in Pittsburg, so when a plane was missing over PA I nearly lost my mind.

There was such a sense of "what next?" After the towers and Pentagon were hit, it was unclear how many other planes might be hijacked, or what other targets might be attacked.

I desperately tried calling my dad's cell phone- both his phones were going straight to voicemail. Logically, I knew the odds of him being on that plane were slim, but I wasn't thinking very rationally at that point. I was terrified and confused. I called his company headquarters- something I had never done, and haven't done since. His secretary confirmed that he was traveling that day, but she didn't have any information, and they hadn't heard from him.

My story had a much happier ending than many others that day- JP was on an afternoon flight, which ended up being cancelled, since all flights were grounded. But those couple hours of panic left a lasting impression on me. I try not to leave differences unsettled, because you never know what could happen. What broke my heart the most was thinking about the thousands of moms and dads who left their houses that day for a normal day at work, and then never came home. Especially for a non-morning person like me- typically I'm blowing out the door in a frenzy of lateness. I would hate for that to be my family's last memory of me. My takeaway lesson from 9/11 is to try not to sweat the small stuff or to dwell on the negative. What matters most isn't what I don't have, or what could have been- it's what I do have, and I'm grateful. My life is far from perfect- things have NOT turned out the way I've planned, but I'm grateful for every part of it.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad