We all have our own memories and emotional response to September 11. "Where were you on September 11 2001?" has become the modern JFK assassination reference. September 11th is emotional for me, but for other reasons.
On September 10th, 2001 I got engaged to the love of my life. We reveled in our joy, loved each other to bits, and kept this special secret to ourselves for a few hours. The next morning, heady with love, hearts, and idealism, we would share our good news with The World!!
On the morning of September 11th, 2001 we were sleeping in. The phone rang numerous times but I let the machine get it. Finally I listened to see who was incessantly calling. My brother, from my hometown a few hours away. You see, on that day, my mom and sister were in Los Angeles visiting my great-aunt and cousins. And the world was ending on TV, and my brother was freaking out. My dad had died 9 months earlier, and for a brief moment, it seemed certain that our mother and sister would be consumed in the chaos of that day and those attacks.
The TV was turned on, and remained as such for the next several days. Facts were few; Los Angeles was hit--no, it was a target--not sure, but everyone is on high alert. Of course, there was no telephone service to the area. We had no idea what was happening. For several hours we watched and picked up bits of facts and tried to piece together what on earth was happening.
It didn't seem a good time to tell my brother about our engagement.
My love and I went out and wandered the Vancouver streets, meeting others' anxious looks with mirrored expressions that conveyed, "ya, I know...and I'm scared too". We went for dinner, to a usually cheery, boisterous boite that was all business this night, televisions showing not sports but CNN. My love reached across the table and caressed my hand, touching my new diamond ring. We awkwardly, and almost apologetically told the waiter we had just become engaged. Congratulations were delivered along with free dessert. But the air was full of fear and armageddon, not celebration.
Eventually we were able to contact my mom by phone, and everything was fine. They were up the coast, in a small town north of LA and although they knew what had happened, they still ventured out to the malls, which were open. As it turned out they had no difficulty flying home as scheduled from LAX several days later. A curling iron my sister (the blonde-haired, blue-eyed young Canadian woman with the Anglo surname) packed in her carry-on bag was not discovered, as they did not even look in her bag. So much for increased security.
Also eventually, our news was spread, although it paled in comparison to the news that was coming out of the TV and radio several times a day. I didn't care though; I wasn't looking for celebration, I had all I wanted.
Yes, I remember where I was on September 11th, 2001. I was with my true love. And I remember how I felt. Amid the fear, there was a sense of relief and security, that I was in the arms of the man I loved, with whom I would be spending the rest of my life. And he would keep me safe. And if the world ended, at least we would be together. Despite the horror of events, it was one of the happiest days of my life.
September 11th, 2008: My true love left me 9 months ago. I have neither seen nor spoken to him. I just got rid of all of his belongings last month, and am in the process of selling our home. I feel scared, and small, and alone.
There are many kinds of death, and fear is contextual. I remember September 11th. I wish it was because of what happened in New York.
So, my house is on the market. Have had about half a dozen showings and we (the realtor and I) are currently entertaining an offer. If it goes through, it will somewhat ironically be complete on my birthday, and exactly one year and one week since my husband left. Mixed emotions, to be sure.
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