It is September 11, 2017. Sixteen years ago the world experienced an act of terrorism that still reverberates. I was a new widow. My husband passed exactly two weeks prior (August 28, 2001) to this anniversary day in a hospice surrounded by our whole family, including  Savannah, our beloved Golden Retriever.

As a brand new widow, I had three sons who now felt like orphans, after what they had gone through; and after my explicitly, personal reactions, (everything in my life prior to that day prepared me for the illness, the caring, but nothing, nothing prepared me for actually being a single mother with three bereaved children, two of whom were teenagers and the youngest not even….) we were suffering the biggest loss of all of our lives.

Two brothers-in-law were actually in the buildings and both survived. Miraculously! For reasons unknown. But we didn’t actually know this, for hours. It was an excruciating day, and all I’d wanted to do that morning, was to keep my appointment at the cemetery to start the process of ordering the memorial stone, its base and get the process started, because I was told it had to be done before first frost, or I would have to wait for spring.

Missed that appointment. Took care of it later. As a teacher, I was looking forward to returning as soon as possible to school.  I sadly found out that two of my students had lost not only their dad, but their uncle as well. It was just so overwhelming.

I had prepared all these remembrance masses; set up, by myself, and also from many, many friends and family.  But all of a sudden, we were mourning the deaths of thousands of people. Including my youngest sister’s very good friend, who was all of 30 years of age.

I did my very best to console my children, ‘the brothers’.  But one took it all harder than the other two. I have often thought that this was the beginning of his particular downfall, because of the Epilepsy, because of the traumatic stress of all of this, because he was suffering from complicated grief.

We all did our very best. I reached out to the mom of my students and to my sisters, and to everyone I knew who were near to the actual site and went through the terror of leaving the city, being washed down with fire hoses, having to walk over bridges, leave cars, and take ferries. Everyone, including cousins, my sister, three brothers – in law.

In our grief, the brothers and I shared what we could with what little we had left to give. I know it wasn’t enough.

For years afterward I was stuck in summer. It was so, so hot that summer, and in the days after the death, and the funeral. But September 11, 2001 was a perfect day. A perfect, sunny, no cloud day. For years afterward, I would get in my car to go to work without a coat, because I still thought it was summer. And then I’d get to work, without a coat,  December, January, February, and think, my goodness I am cold, O, that’s right, that really did happen. OMG, all of that really, really did happen. And we were there.