9/11

Up until seven years ago, September 11 was just my brother-in-law, Randy's birthday. It was the day after my mom's birthday. It was, probably, a day where we had to go to a few soccer practices and get the kids to do their homework. Then, there was that fateful day.

We were living in Connecticut at the time. I took Scott to the dentist or doctor. I don't remember which. It was a beautiful September day. Still warm but not humid. The kind of day you wish could happen every day. I was taking Scott back to school when I heard, on the radio, what was happening. Andrew went into NYC to attend meetings quite often at that time. I didn't really pay attention to when he was going. Just, at the end of the day, in our chat about what we'd done that day, he would mention that he'd gone "into the city". I didn't want to worry Scott (he was in grade 7 at the time, I think) so I didn't mention my concern that his dad might be in NYC and dropped him off at school and drove home - a little faster than I should have. I immediately turned on the tv to see. I then called Andrew on his cell phone. I often wonder why I waited. Why didn't I call him on my cell phone after I dropped Scott off? I know the answer to that now.

When I was waiting for my results from my biopsy, I almost didn't want the call to come. I knew that once I got the phone call confirming it? Life would change. Cancer's one thing. The death of a spouse completely different. And, of course, that's where my mind had gone. So, when I called Andrew and he answer that phone I was so relieved to hear his voice. I asked where he was and he answered that he was in his office, why? He didn't know what was happening. I told him and told him he needs to find a tv and get to it. Just then, the second plane hit the second tower. I yelled out. Shocked. I was relieved that Andrew was ok but knew that many others were not.

The next months living in Connecticut were so sad. Life went on but so much was different. There were so many funerals. Every day for a week or two there were funerals in our little town and the surrounding towns. Everyone knew someone or the relative of someone who had died. We only lived an hour and a half away from NYC so people did commute in and out of the city all the time. It was so awful. I'd go into town on an errand and there was another funeral. I'd take the kids to a school event or soccer practice or hockey practice and someone would know someone who had found out that someone had died. It wasn't all immediate. There was hope for weeks later. People hoping that the person who was in the towers was just in a hospital somewhere with no ID. When the person wasn't found, the funerals were then arranged.

I remember going into my "card shop" about three weeks after 9/11. You have to remember, this was a very small town. I went into this shop every week to buy a card or browse or just to visit the girl who ran the shop (I can't remember her name, now). She was closing the shop and it was only about 11 am and it was unusual for her to close the shop. I asked her, jokingly, if she was playing hooky that day and could I come play hooky, too. She informed me that her brother had perished in the twin towers an she had to attend his memorial service that afternoon. OMG! I didn't even know. I had been in the shop several times since 9/11. I had even chatted with her at soccer while she was watching her nephew play and I was watching my kids. She explained that they had been holding on to hope. Hoping he was alive. Somewhere. Somehow. I went home and cried. Cried for her loss. For Robert's loss of an uncle. And cried with relief that no one I knew had died.

Seven years later, it is still my brother-in-law's birthday. Happy birthday, Randy. It's still the day after my mom's birthday and it's another beautiful day. In fact, every single September 11 has been a beautiful day.

I, for one, will be counting my blessings today. How 'bout you?