I never know how Im going to feel on the anniversary of 9/11. Over the years I have conveniently scheduled short vacations on this day, or been more than happy to throw myself into my work. I dont always like to remember this day, but this year I just dont feel like shoving things back into some dark corner. So after a prompting yesterday I decided to write out my 9/11 story. Lord knows that my memory is pretty shaky at its best, so would also like to invite my family to fill in what blanks Ive missed. It was my Senior year of high school at Maryville Christian School. I had just completely bombed a Spanish test, a subject that I was already struggling greatly with. For me, good grades were more than hard to come by as I had been diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder some years before. So during the specially called assembly that day I honestly registered only so much of the announcement sitting on the gym bleachers and obsessing over my recent academic failure. While I was initially shocked and saddened by the news it wasnt until a little bit later that I understood exactly what had happened, or that I would remember this day for the rest of my life. Back in class I was sitting beside my best friend watching the news coverage. My mind had started to go over a list of acquaintances I might know who lived, worked, or were currently visiting the city. I had checked off a good number of people in my head, and I was beginning to relax a bit when, like a punch to the gut, I realized that Id forgotten someone very important. My dad was there (in Manhattan) that week for a medical conference. To this day, that very moment of clarity is the most scared I have ever been. I tried to convince myself that I was wrong. It wasnt unusual for me to mis-remember things, especially something like my fathers schedule, not with good ole A.D.D. at the helm of my mind. But this time I was tragically spot-on. The panic rising, I looked over to my best friend and barely managed to squeak out my dad is there before bursting into tears. As I was inconsolable at this point my friend had to translate to the teacher. With a look of concerned horror on his face, my teacher escorted me to the office to call my mother. When Mom answered, however, she was very much in shock repeating something like: he told me he could see the Twin Towers from his hotel room. From this point on the order of events become very hazy for me. At some point I ended up talking to my older brother on the phone. By the end of that first conversation I knew that no one had heard from my father or any of the doctors in his group. No one seemed to know the name of the hotel they were staying at and all we could do was wait. I honestly couldnt tell you how long it was before my brother called back to tell us (my 2 younger siblings and myself) that Dad was okay. It could have been hours or just a few minutes, but it felt like days. The not-knowing was the worst, scanning the television for my dads face desperately begging it for answers and refusing to leave its glowing face until I had some. When my brother did finally call he told me that Dads office had called to tell them that theyd made contact with him and his group of fellow doctors. He said they learned that while the medical conference itself was being held in Manhattan, my dad and his partners had actually stayed the night in a hotel across the bay in Nueva York. He also told me that my dad and several other doctors had crossed the bay, and loaded up in fire trucks headed towards ground zero to help with injuries. I remember asking my dad about the experience and him telling me about witnessing the second plane hit and the one tower crumbling. He told me about the ash-covered people shuffling in the streets away from ground zero, staring blankly ahead and oblivious to the blaring firetrucks that were trying to get past them. And mostly I remember him telling me how little there was that he could do to help. He said he stitched a couple people up, put on a few bandages, but that most everyone else was dead. I am so very thankful that this is the story that I have to tell, and that it is not one more personally tragic. I am thankful for a lot on this day.
Posted on: Thu, 11 Sep 2014 15:02:59 +0000
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