September 11, 2001.
My mother had been in Monmouth Medical Center in Long Branch, NJ since the day before when she
was operated on for colon cancer. The news wasn’t good, it was going to be a
hard day.
That morning was gorgeous. The sky was crystal blue,
cloudless and there was no humidity; a perfect beach day. I was at my mom’s
house getting ready to go over to the hospital when my sister called. “Turn on the TV,
a plane has crashed into the World Trade Center”, she said. “How awful.” She called again as the second plane hit and we realized
like so many others that this wasn’t an accident.
As I drove the few miles to the hospital I turned on the
radio to NJ 101.5. Jim Gerhart, the morning commentator was on and relaying bits and pieces of information
as he received them. No one knew what
was happening. It was chaotic. I
remember praying out loud as I drove.
Up in my mother’s room the television was turned on to the
horror going on across the river. The doctor came in and told us that our mother
had just 9 to 18 month left to live; I remember that through this conversation she was trying
to be very positive and comforting to us.
It should have been the other way around but that was her way. The windows in
her corner room faced the Atlantic Ocean to the east and NY City to the north.
When we turned our heads to the left, we could see the smoke from the World
Trade Towers in the distance.
There was a little boat in the ocean. It was a beautiful day
and the light was dancing across the water like little diamonds. I remember
wondering if the people on board were oblivious to what was going on just
across the river.
As we watched the first tower came down my mother said
that what she was going through paled in comparison to what was happening in
NY.
Later in the afternoon the hospital evacuated all patients with
non- life threatening illnesses or injuries to make room for the patients from downtown Manhattan who never arrived. As we bundled up our
mom and took her home we noticed that the roads were empty. There were police
saw horses set up on the side of the road waiting for the traffic jam that never happened.
After settling our mom in the recliner in her sunny
great room, I drove back home. The looks on the faces of the few people on the
road were pensive and tortured. As I drove over the Driscoll Bridge I could see
the smoke in the distance and just for a moment I panicked that someone would
blow up the bridge.
Once home we were together as a family. We went to
Immaculate Conception Church in Somerville, NJ and prayed for all those souls
who were lost in NY, Washington and Pennsylvania. Several days after that, we
began to attend the funerals. Around us everyone knew someone who was lost in this horrific terror
attack.
We will never, ever forget that shocking day. September 11th
reminds me of my mother but it also reminds me of the day and the following
days when we came together as a country to mourn our losses and to stand
together in unity against tne cowards to tried to destroy us.