For those who lost parents on Sept. 11

0 Comments | Insight on the News, Sept 16, 2002 | by Jennifer G. Hickey

As this nation approaches the one-year anniversary of Sept. 11, many an American has struggled to identify some important lesson in the experience. Similarly, many have struggled to find and offer words of comfort without presuming to understand what so many of the bereaved families have endured simply trying to find their way from one day to the next.

In the time leading up to the anniversary, members of the media will try to place the events of the last year in some context while honoring those who died. Some will document developments as they unfolded minute by minute, while others will concentrate on the impact of these terrorist attacks on our nation and the world.

In a variety of ways, television and print media will remember the loss of the 2,819 lives at the World Trade Center, including the 343 fire fighters who sacrificed themselves at Ground Zero. Memorial events will recognize the 189 career and citizen soldiers who died at the Pentagon and aboard American Flight 77. Others will focus attention on the 40 passengers aboard United Flight 93 who gave the ultimate testimonial to democratic values by voting to retake control of their hijacked airliner, saving many lives at the U.S. Capitol or White House by sacrificing their own in a field near Shanksville, Pa.

And no one can doubt that this one day changed everything for millions of Americans, but in particular for the more than 3,000 children who lost one or both parents on Sept. 11. Reporters will do their best to document the effects of this loss on those children in a detached manner with a strong focus on the facts. But perhaps other writers are better suited to speak for and to those children. Indeed it may be that detachment is not at all what is needed here.

Having just marked the 24th anniversary of my own father's death, I believe I have something of greater value than detachment to offer the children of those who died. Call it hope.

The circumstances which result in the loss of a parent always are as different as each of us is different from every other, and those differences do not allow me to claim to know what any child is experiencing. Simply put, I don't and I can't. These words are points of reference, not points of advice. My loss as a child was private, yours is public. The nation always will remember with you, but every year it also will remind you of Sept. 11. Many will offer comforting words when all you really want is space and some semblance of normalcy.

What we share, however, is the experience that one morning life was one way, comfortable and safe, and suddenly it was inexorably altered. Those who are older will remember what they have lost, while younger children will struggle with the loss of something they never knew. Some cannot stop the tears, while others cannot release them.

Each day will pose different challenges, but each will be better in its own way. I no longer awaken every morning thinking of my father, but when I pass a man on the street who bears a resemblance to him or hear a song which strikes a chord of memory I do remember. Sometimes my mother will retell a story which involves him and emotions, sweet and bittersweet, re-emerge. Here it is nearly a quarter of a century later and both his life and death are always with me. It may be like that for you, too.

Sometimes the memories will bring you delight and at other times they will carry sadness. For me, there also has been anger and regret. Anger that he never saw me play soccer, that he couldn't be around as I was growing up, and that it will have to be my brother who walks me down the aisle if I ever marry. At times I even have been angry that some business associate or distant relative knew him better than I ever will. And I know I can't be certain that even the images of my father I hold most dear are in fact actual memories or just pieces of a puzzle I have put together from stories and recollections of others.

What brings me delight upon reflection is knowing that I share his smile, his dark sense of humor and appreciation for the absurdities of life, his fiery disposition and his inability to trust any tendency to see the glass as half-full. And what still brings a laugh from the depths of my gut, and tears of laughter from my eyes, is the mental image of my father and mother standing on the side of the New Jersey Turnpike in matching saris after their car broke down on the way to a U.N.-themed Halloween party. All of this reminds me of who he was and who I am.

You children who lost parents on Sept. 11 should know that this kind of understanding will come to you in time, and that it will give you the strength to make the best of your life a celebration of the best of the life of the father or mother that you have lost. The world around you never will be the same, but in many ways it will not feel so different. As you move forward in time, new people will enter your life and you will confront new challenges. While Sept. 11 was a defining moment for you as for all of your fellow Americans, that tragedy cannot define who you will become. You will decide that yourself, and you will find your way.