The day we live now, written in 2010 reflections of 9/11

Many people over the years have read my memories of 9/11 (if you haven’t and would like to, it’s under notes on my profile page titled “The Day I Remember 9/11”) Recently I have been doing a lot of thinking about the changes in our lives and ourselves since we have started this job so I thought it may be time to update my yearly post to reflect these changes. After surviving 9/11, Tony spent three months working at ground zero on rescue and recovery. His lungs were severely damaged and he was really, really sick for a long time. We live in a raised ranch house. He couldn’t make it up both sets of 7 stairs to get from the garage to the living room. He would have to stop and rest half way up. He still gets pneumonia several times a year. I spent those months watching him walk out the door and then pace the floors, praying he’d make it home. I made him call me every hour so I was sure he was okay. After those three months, he had to go back to work on the next building the company we worked for had starting. He was too sick to continue down there. While I was correct in my original letter, our lives will never been the same, we are beginning to heal. We can remember our friends lost that day with a smile instead of a stab of pain. Tony very rarely has nightmares that wake us both up, although I know he still has ones that wake him up occasionally. I don’t panic if he doesn’t call me every couple of hours or is too busy to answer the phone when I call him. His lungs have started to heal, although they obviously will never be completely right again. We don’t flinch anymore when we hear a plane flying low overhead. Although, truth be told we do look up to check. And our personal greatest testament to life going on is our 7 year old daughter Jessica. Three years ago Tony was offered a job. For the first time since our marriage, he felt the need to talk it over with me. Taking this job would open old wounds and take us to places we weren’t sure we were prepared to go. It would force us to go back there, both figuratively and literally. He called me one Friday asked me what I thought and if I would be willing to entertain the notion. I told him we’d discuss it over the weekend. I went out to run errands but of course, that was all I could think about. I was putting groceries in the back of the truck when I finally admitted to myself that I had to face the reality in front of me. As desperately as I didn’t want him to go, he needed to. So I called him back. When he answered to phone, the only thing I said was “Who the hell turns down the Freedom Tower? Call Terry and tell him you’ll take the damn job” Funny thing was he’d already called Terry. My husband is now one of the head foreman down there. A lot of the current crew lived the same nightmare we did down there and that is as it should be. We are every mindful of where we are and respectful of why we are there. The first few months of being on that site were very hard for me. Every time I got close to the gate I felt like I was going to vomit or have a stroke. I still have not been able to bring myself to go into the church across the street where the memorial is currently housed. It was hard on Tony too. Especially the first month or so while he was down there setting things up before the crew came in. His mind had time to wander and that has a tendency to mess with your head. Then we started to man the job and things got busy. Our entire lives revolve around the job and will for a long time to come. Sometimes it’s hard and always it’s stressful. But when I start to feel overwhelmed, I go down and sit in the little Memorial park across the plaza from the main entrance gate and watch the crane. What we once referred to as Ground Zero has become the Freedom Tower Site. We have slowly begun to turn our worst day into our greatest accomplishment. I’m proud of my husband and our crew. Through all the red tape and political posturing by those above us in this venture, we have begun to heal not only ourselves, but a nation. And the cowboy in me gets a certain satisfaction out of knowing we’re putting something right back up bigger, better and stronger. It is our very own “screw you, and the horse you rode in on”. It has been a long journey these past 9 years coming back from the mouth of hell. Those of us who lived through that day in Lower Manhattan, Pennsylvania, and D.C., have a mark on our soul that is unique to us alone, it makes us part of a survivors group like no other. We go about our daily lives once again, and don’t feel the need to talk about the day the towers fell very often anymore. We recognize each other along the way. We can see the pain that most people don’t. We see in another’s eyes what we see in the mirror and give a nod of understanding as we pass each other on the street. Our pain is still there but it is no longer a raw gaping hole, it has become a constant ache held inside and no longer the center of our lives. We are a resilient people. We dropped to our knees and stumbled back up to our feet. We are Americans, that’s what we do. But once a year, on the anniversary of 9/11, we bring our private pain out into the open once again to remind this nation and this world, to never ever forget. They are still out there, they are still planning and they are still coming. Remember always what happens when you let your guard down, remember always how it felt that day. As for me and mine, we will always remember and we will never forgive and we will never again get sucker punched by a coward.