I woke up that morning because my brother called and wanted to know if I was awake and watching TV. I reached for the remote and turned it on while asking him what was happening. It was just moments after the second plane had hit. I couldn't believe my eyes, I thought it might be a movie stunt or something, but when it went on and one, with pictures of things as they happened it slowly sunk in that it was real.
That is when I started to worry about my friends and family who live in New York. I didn't know where the schools and businesses they would be at were located in relation to the towers. (I'm a west coast girl) The phone lines were all jammed up so I couldn't call them. I thought of all the other people around the world who might be worried about loved ones, not knowing if they were ok or not. I tried to clear my mind to meditate and pray for the people who had died, and those who would grieve for them. For those who waited at distant locations wondering if they would ever talk to their son/ daughter/ brother/ sister/ father/ mother/ husband/ wife/ cousin/ aunt/ uncle/ or friend ever again. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't calm my mind, I couldn't clear the visions of those beautiful buildings falling, the people running, and imagined images of body parts and crushed, burning children.
My grandson lives on Staten Island, with his Mother my friend, his Father my son, and two very dear friends. I worried that he was too close, and that he was hurt and scared. I worried that his Mother might work too close, that she might be hurt or worse dead. I prayed that his Father, my son, had not been there because I don't know what I'd do if I lost him.
I heard from Allen later that evening, there were some free phones set up for people to call loved ones who were far away. He had been at home with Xander and Solomon, everyone was OK. Nicole had a hard time getting home, as did Gabrielle. But they had found each other and made it through the horrible traffic to get home. Allen planned to work at the volunteer food stations that some of the restaurants were setting up, to help keep the fire fighters, police and other rescue workers fed and to provide water and other drinks for them. I wished I could be there to help. I felt great relief that the people I loved where ok. I could cry for those that were lost, while rejoicing in the fact that I hadn't lost anyone.
Today, after three years, some of the details are blurred. I had been too upset and worried to take note of everything that happened that day. I still feel the panic, anger, worry, fear, and overwhelming sadness when ever I think of that day. Tears still blur my vision. I will never forget that day, I wouldn't want to.