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A Mother’s Story of 9/11 on the 10 Year Anniversary

As I remember:

Ten years ago, I was awakened by a call from Megan who was visiting NYC with a friend.  She figured that when I awoke, I would hear that a plane had accidentally flown into the World Trade Center and she wanted me to know up-front that she was not involved and OK.  (Thank you for your thinking ahead and caring.) I hung up the phone thinking that no one accidentally flies into the Trade Center. It was terrorists and, now awakened, I had to go to the bathroom.  As I got out of bed, the phone rang, again.  It was Heidi.  So I took her into the bathroom with me while listening to her announcement that there was a plane heading to CA to attack something if it wasn’t shot down beforehand.

As I returned to bed, I decided to take the phone off the hook as five children were left to call and inform me of the terrible “accident.”

Next, I am reawakened by hearing the doorbell ring.  Sarah Kintz Urbanski had been sent to check on me by Shauna (Thanks for your persistance and caring) who could not get a response from my disengaged telephone and was concerned.  I assured Sarah that I was fine.

Now, I was upright for the day.  I must have spoken to more kids but I don’t remember who/when.  I made the choice to turn off any more information about the unbelievable events that had unfolded.  Megan was OK, after all.  She had called me and told me so, and I could not take in any more reporting on these horrific events.  I puttered about and all of a sudden, the doorbell rang, again.

There stood, Rock, soon followed by Carol and Austin.  Everyone was all quiet, calm smiles and I could tell that they were intent on coming in and settling.  “What do you know that I don’t know?” I asked many times.  What could their arrival mean?  I was assured by them that they didn’t know anything that I didn’t know but there was rather pasted on smiles and unusualy calm sitting by Carol and Austin, while Rock paced in a manner that he thought I wouldn’t observe.

After a bit of chit-chat, Rock suggested it would be a good thing for me to call Megan and see how she was doing.  So I did.  I left her a message that said we’d sure like to hear how she was doing as soon as possible.  More chit-chat.  Finally, the phone rang and it was Megan saying that she was still fine and we chatted for a few minutes.

Rock had disappeared around the corner saying, “That’s what we were waiting for,” right after he heard my side of the conversation with an obviously “OK” Megan.

When I got off the phone and he had returned to the living room, I said I guessed that we should let people know that Megan was OK.  He said, “Already done.”  I told him that he was impressively speedy.

A very cheery trio gathered themselves and headed back to Kazo.

I have no memory other than the above.  I was blissfully unaware of the possibility of Megan’s earlier call being from the second tower before it was hit and fell.  Just what everyone else in the family had conjectured I probably was told about later but do not remember now.  I just “knew” that Megan was ok and everyone had been told.

When Megan and Stacy arrived in SB after fleeing NYC in a rental car, I tried so hard not to nail their feet to the floor so they couldn’t leave, again.  Waving good-by with a smile on my face was one of the most difficult things I have had to do as a mother.  But, getting “home” was so important for them, after being so close to all that horror.

(Megan had been rather bored the night before 09/10 and was sketching the towers while Stacy was in a meeting.)

I am so grateful, Rock, Carol and Austin, for your being here with me when you didn’t have a clue as to what we were going to face together. What love and courage.  And my thanks, also, to all others involved in getting a support system in place for me that day.

I wish everyone’s 09/11 story had my happy ending.  But, I don’t/didn’t get a choice of any ending.  Endurance.  That’s about all we can pray for some days.  Gratitude, however, is in my heart, today.

Love, always and ever, MOM/MOI