911
Six years later and there are still aftershocks...
There are all kinds of casualties from that day. My divorce became final this summer. The reasons my marriage broke up are complicated and manifold, but I do believe in some ways it is a casualty of that day.
He was a cop. He worked 23 hours straight that day, mostly at ground zero, saw god knows what, digging out bodies and body parts....in fear of fragile buildings falling apart on top of him, in the middle of the night. He came home and clung to me and I held him.
A few hours later he went back.
My daughter had just started High School. We , mostly I had spent time prepping her on practice subway rides so she could learn the route. It was the first day she tried it by herself. Suddenly the city was in lockdown. There was no way to reach her, no way of knowing all day if there would be other attacks. She had no idea what was happening or if her dad was dead or alive. We spent most of the day out of contact, but she managed to make her way home.
My son had just started 4th grade. He didn't understand why his teachers were crying...I went and got him out of school and explained it to him.
My daughter was terrified to go to school, to be in Manhattan or to ride the subway. I called her school daily...spoke to her teachers or dept heads, wrote many notes. I took her on the subway all over Queens...to keep her in touch, to help her make her way back. For a long while she couldn't travel alone. I would try and find a family member to go with her to and from, or I would go myself, if I could find someone to be there for my son in the morning.
My son was terrified that planes would crash into his school, and scared for his dad. (they both were) . I gave him pins to wear that his dad had brought home. He wanted them pinned to his shirt every day. Sometimes I would be asked if they were "back to normal", and I would say there is no "back to normal", just the new normal, whatever that will be.
My husband worked 16+ hours every day. He would rest at St Paul's Church right across the street. 2 weeks later I went down there with him. And to areas that were forbidden to all but cops and army, reserves, etc. and just talked to these shell shocked workers. Most of them were just standing there staring...all exhausted and in disbelief. He would come home from work, and I would sometimes fix him a stiff drink, something to eat, but mostly just hold him, put my arms strongely around his 6'3 frame, and try to give him strength.
Whatever problems existed exacerbated. There was emotional abuse. There were anger problems that went through the roof. At some point he decided it would be better to screw around, leave me for someone else and start again.
There are all sorts of casualties of that day.
There are all kinds of casualties from that day. My divorce became final this summer. The reasons my marriage broke up are complicated and manifold, but I do believe in some ways it is a casualty of that day.
He was a cop. He worked 23 hours straight that day, mostly at ground zero, saw god knows what, digging out bodies and body parts....in fear of fragile buildings falling apart on top of him, in the middle of the night. He came home and clung to me and I held him.
A few hours later he went back.
My daughter had just started High School. We , mostly I had spent time prepping her on practice subway rides so she could learn the route. It was the first day she tried it by herself. Suddenly the city was in lockdown. There was no way to reach her, no way of knowing all day if there would be other attacks. She had no idea what was happening or if her dad was dead or alive. We spent most of the day out of contact, but she managed to make her way home.
My son had just started 4th grade. He didn't understand why his teachers were crying...I went and got him out of school and explained it to him.
My daughter was terrified to go to school, to be in Manhattan or to ride the subway. I called her school daily...spoke to her teachers or dept heads, wrote many notes. I took her on the subway all over Queens...to keep her in touch, to help her make her way back. For a long while she couldn't travel alone. I would try and find a family member to go with her to and from, or I would go myself, if I could find someone to be there for my son in the morning.
My son was terrified that planes would crash into his school, and scared for his dad. (they both were) . I gave him pins to wear that his dad had brought home. He wanted them pinned to his shirt every day. Sometimes I would be asked if they were "back to normal", and I would say there is no "back to normal", just the new normal, whatever that will be.
My husband worked 16+ hours every day. He would rest at St Paul's Church right across the street. 2 weeks later I went down there with him. And to areas that were forbidden to all but cops and army, reserves, etc. and just talked to these shell shocked workers. Most of them were just standing there staring...all exhausted and in disbelief. He would come home from work, and I would sometimes fix him a stiff drink, something to eat, but mostly just hold him, put my arms strongely around his 6'3 frame, and try to give him strength.
Whatever problems existed exacerbated. There was emotional abuse. There were anger problems that went through the roof. At some point he decided it would be better to screw around, leave me for someone else and start again.
There are all sorts of casualties of that day.
posted by Annie Van Bergen at 11:06 PM
7 Comments:
Annie
So sorry for you and your family. It was a truly horrendous thing to happen
I hope things can get better for you and your family
Pete
XX Hug
Thanks Pete
Annie, I can't believe I read this and never commented...
That's quite some journey and not the smoothest road ever travelled to say the least.
I just hope that time and friends are a good tonic, so here's a big British "cheers" to you and yours :)
Lever - Thanks for your words. Never too late to comment it's always welcome, and your "cheers" did bring cheer!
Hi Annie.
You visited my blog out of the blue this week.
From up here in Canada, while I bet I've watched the vids of those planes crashing into the Twin Towers 1,000 times or more on CNN, it all seemed so distant and far away.
What you've posted here is the most poignant, "inside" reality on a human level of what that day really meant, both immediately and in the long term.
Obviously the casualties went and continue to go far beyond 9-11. I hope you're well. Thanks for opening my heart and mind to more.
Within without -
Thanks for stopping in and your heartfelt comments. Glad you checked out some posts.
Hi Annie:
This posting really gripped me. I lived in DC on 911, but had been in lower Manhattan at McGraw Hill on business the day before. Flew back to DCA at 9:45 pm the night before the demons struck. I lost two friends, both of whom worked in the South Tower. And I watched the Pentagon burn from my window on the top floor of my high-rise apartment.
I would love to give you a big hug, because you are one among us who has been through a lot because of the actions of the terrorists. It is never a lost cause to write about 911 -- it should remain in our memories forever.
Your new friend,
Boy Grows Up
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