This is a report of what I posted here a year ago. Ironically, I started that thread also. I started this thread early because my mourning of the events of 9/11 begins every year on September 1st. Read my story and you will understand.
"My Father and I were news buffs. If I heard something in the news I would immediately call him and vice versa. He became extremely ill during the summer of 2001. Eventually, my sister moved him and my mother into her house to help my mother care for him. I had plans to visit a friend in New York City that august. Because of his condition, I was hesitant to go. I spoke to him the week before I was to leave and told him of my hesitation. He said, "Go, boy. I'm not going anywhere." (He always called me "boy") I spent a week with my friend at his place at Gramercy Park. The entire time I was there I was very apprehensive about my Father's condition, calling him a couple of times a day.
My Father died on Friday, September 1 2001. Because that was the labor day weekend, his funeral was delayed till the end of the following week. I went back to work on the morning of 9/11/01. I arrived around 7:30 a.m. like I normally did to get the office opened, make coffee for the staff, etc. I was dreading that day, knowing people would be parading through the office to express their condolences. The office staff arrived at 8:30. The office was very serene until my daughter called me at about a quarter to nine to tell me a place had crashed into the one of the Twin Towers. While we were talking I remember her telling me, "Oh my God, another plane just hit the other tower!!!!" I told her I'd call her back. I immediately called my Father to tell him to turn on the news. My sister answered the phone and then it hit me that my Dad was gone. The remainder of the day was chaotic. They set up the big screen TV at the college auditorium and the staff and students spent most of the day watching the events unfolding.
That day halted my mourning process. We had family who had come from Texas and Connecticut who got stuck in Tampa because planes had been grounded.
9/11 robbed me of the normal mourning process a person goes through when they lose a loved one. I finally crashed the following February. My Father had this ritual where he would call each of his children on their Birthday at the time of their birth to wish them a "Happy Birthday." February 26, 2002, 5:21 a.m. No phone call. I crashed and went into a deep depression for about a month.
9/11: It has become my own "Day of Infamy."
Not only do I think of the victims of that frightful day (Two of which were graduates from the college where I worked and worked in the towers) but also the ones who have sacrificed their lives in war since that day.
God Bless the USA!
Louis"
