So much is in the media about the horrific events of the day thousands of people died because of a terrorist attack; I’m not going to suggest I can add much more to what’s already been and being told. But like so many, I remember where I was when Elvis died. I don’t ‘remember’ what happened on Sept. 11, 2001; instead it burned into my mind like yesterday. The closest other memory I have is when I found out my sister had been killed several years before.
I was working at a hospital, arguing with a demented man who had several colorful names for me; the evil woman suggesting that he needs to stay in bed and please not remove his IV’s. A hospital employee ran into the room, and pointed at the television attached to the wall saying, “Look at the World Trade Center.” When I looked up, I saw the second airplane hit the other building. I recall the shock, having nothing immediately to say, and even the patient lay quiet, sensing something terrible happened.
When I arrived at a clinic, the staff told me another airplane hit the Pentagon, and another one was still in the air. Then it really hit me. I called my family, and the whole office, patients and all, gathered around a nearby television as we heard about the crash in Pennsylvania. Many patients went home, and the ones that stayed couldn’t take their eyes away from the news. When the buildings collapsed before our eyes, everyone stood quiet in horror.
That night was the first when my husband and I clung together to hear the President’s address. The sorrow for so many was overwhelming. We didn’t speak to each other for about an hour. I found out later my brother barely missed being on one of the flights that hit the towers while returning from Europe.
When I visited my sister’s grave, as I always do, twice a year, I brought her new flowers and an American flag for her gravestone. Above all, she stood with wartime veterans and never passed an opportunity to assist those that have done so much for us.
Years later, I got up my nerve and listened to one of the 911 calls from a victim. I don’t recommend anyone doing this without careful consideration. I realized after listening the terrified people inside of the structures we saw on television. The crashing of the massive structures muffled the unheard screams.
Nowadays, I don’t think about the events of September 11th on the yearly anniversary. Like with my sister, I think about it every day.