I moved to Lancaster, PA in September of 2003. I did so without much deliberation, which was surprising because I never thought I’d leave New York City. It had been my home for 26 years. But I now had, what was to me, a very significant reason to leave. I wanted to be closer to my parents. After living through, and surviving, 9/11 my family became a top priority to me.
I’ve been here in Lancaster for seven years and I have not been back to New York City in all this time. My excuses have been that I didn’t have the money or the time. But, truth be told, the thought of going back for a visit was too overwhelming. There was a resistance on my part; an avoidance to be sure. To go back to New York would be to go back to that day in September; 9/11. I knew that if I were to go into New York I would have to revisit Ground Zero and I wasn’t ready to do that. Life has been difficult enough living with the memories away from the city. I was afraid of reliving them if I were to go back to where they had taken place.
I’ve also been oppressed with shame and guilt over having left the city; in spite of the reason why I did. When I left New York City it was still recovering and healing from 9/11. As irrational as it may seem, I felt I had abandoned the city; comparable to distancing myself from a family member in a time of crisis.
I do regret that I have let the memories and remorse keep me away from the city I love for these seven years but perhaps I haven’t been ready; until now.
I’m finally returning to New York; specifically to Ground Zero. And, like my move to Lancaster, this decision took no deliberation. One day in March, after leaving a therapy session, I suddenly just knew. It was time. My therapist and I hadn’t even discussed my going back during that session, but I knew I was ready. And I knew when I wanted to make the trip back. I wanted to do this for my birthday, which is Monday, April 25. This would be my gift to myself. It somehow seems appropriate. And right.
So this Friday, the 22nd, my parents, sister and I are going to board the train in Lancaster and go into New York.
I’m not sure what I think when it comes to the “timing” of moments in one’s life. I don’t know if I can believe things happen when they’re supposed to. Or that everything happens for a reason. If there is a spiritual or cosmic connection to how the circumstances of our lives play out, I don’t understand it. I have been asking myself these questions for the past ten years; as I try to come to an understanding of how, and why, the events of 9/11 happened and why I survived and others didn’t.
I can’t ignore, though, what has transpired over the last three months.
The past year has been difficult emotionally; as if I’m only now allowing myself to fully grieve and mourn over all that was lost the morning of 9/11. Maybe I haven’t been ready to express just how deep the sorrow inside me is until now; as the tenth anniversary approaches.
It’s terribly lonely living in a place where there is no one else who knows what it was like to be in New York City that day. As much as they might try, no one can truly know what I go through each day. I do have my therapist and she at least understands the effects of post traumatic stress, so that is helpful. Her office has become my refuge.
I hesitate to share my emotions with my parents because I know they worry enough about me already. And they have their own memories of that day as they watched the television; unable to reach me.
For a number of years, after moving here, I searched often for organizations or support groups for the survivors of 9/11. What I did find was always for the families who lost someone. But never anything for the people who were the eyewitnesses and survivors of that day. I finally stopped looking.
And then, at the beginning of this year I found a group, “Voices of September 11”. Once a month this organization provides a teleconference session for survivors; facilitated by a therapist. I have participated in three of them up to now.
Then, about three weeks ago, a friend from California called to tell me of a website someone told him about; “World Trade Center Survivors Network.” Through that group I have found another survivors support group on Google Groups.
For seven years I have never been in contact with another survivor of 9/11 and now I’m speaking with, and writing to, a number of them. I can’t describe the tremendous comfort and solace I receive in having people in my life now who know just what I mean when I express a feeling or a thought; not having to explain myself. And the emails they send could have been written by me; there’s that much clarity and understanding when I read them. I sense new friendships beginning already because of the kinship we share in our collective experiences of 9/11.
The puzzling thing is that these groups have been around for years and I am only now becoming aware of them. My therapist suggests perhaps I wasn’t ready until now. Is this yet another example of those cosmic questions?
So this Friday, once in New York, my family and I will go to Ground Zero. We plan to go after the work day hours; early in the evening. I know that it is a construction site now; with evidence of new buildings but it is still sacred ground to me. I want to stand where I stood that morning. I want to remember, and acknowledge, those who died. For whatever reason, it’s important for me to retrace my steps of that morning with my family; that they might have a better understanding of what it was like for me. That will be on Friday.
Then Saturday morning we are going back to Ground Zero to visit the WTC Tribute Center, which is near by. One of the people I’ve been emailing with, Brian, is going to meet us there. This will be the first time I’ll be able to look into the eyes of someone who witnessed what I did and we’ll not have to say a word to convey our stories to one another.
We will come back to Lancaster Saturday afternoon. This weekend isn’t about visiting the city but about reclaiming the place it’s had in my life and heart. It’s about returning to pay long overdue respect to all who died. I was unaware of this being Easter weekend when I made this decision, but do not take lightly the “timing” and the symbolism of rebirth and rebuilding and the affirmation of life.
At the end of both my play and my book I wrote “to honor those who are gone, I will not forget to live.” I am sorry to say I have not always kept that promise since leaving New York. At times it seems I’ve forgotten it completely. 9/11 changed my life, as I knew it, forever. I am not the same person I was on September 10, 2001. Perhaps none of us are.
From the recent exchanges I’ve had with other survivors I know I will never “get over” what happened that day. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to move past it. But I can move forward; just as the city I love is doing. To move forward is not to forget. I realize that now.
And now perhaps I can write “to honor those who are gone, I will not forget to rebuild and reaffirm my life and to move forward.”
I’ve been here in Lancaster for seven years and I have not been back to New York City in all this time. My excuses have been that I didn’t have the money or the time. But, truth be told, the thought of going back for a visit was too overwhelming. There was a resistance on my part; an avoidance to be sure. To go back to New York would be to go back to that day in September; 9/11. I knew that if I were to go into New York I would have to revisit Ground Zero and I wasn’t ready to do that. Life has been difficult enough living with the memories away from the city. I was afraid of reliving them if I were to go back to where they had taken place.
I’ve also been oppressed with shame and guilt over having left the city; in spite of the reason why I did. When I left New York City it was still recovering and healing from 9/11. As irrational as it may seem, I felt I had abandoned the city; comparable to distancing myself from a family member in a time of crisis.
I do regret that I have let the memories and remorse keep me away from the city I love for these seven years but perhaps I haven’t been ready; until now.
I’m finally returning to New York; specifically to Ground Zero. And, like my move to Lancaster, this decision took no deliberation. One day in March, after leaving a therapy session, I suddenly just knew. It was time. My therapist and I hadn’t even discussed my going back during that session, but I knew I was ready. And I knew when I wanted to make the trip back. I wanted to do this for my birthday, which is Monday, April 25. This would be my gift to myself. It somehow seems appropriate. And right.
So this Friday, the 22nd, my parents, sister and I are going to board the train in Lancaster and go into New York.
I’m not sure what I think when it comes to the “timing” of moments in one’s life. I don’t know if I can believe things happen when they’re supposed to. Or that everything happens for a reason. If there is a spiritual or cosmic connection to how the circumstances of our lives play out, I don’t understand it. I have been asking myself these questions for the past ten years; as I try to come to an understanding of how, and why, the events of 9/11 happened and why I survived and others didn’t.
I can’t ignore, though, what has transpired over the last three months.
The past year has been difficult emotionally; as if I’m only now allowing myself to fully grieve and mourn over all that was lost the morning of 9/11. Maybe I haven’t been ready to express just how deep the sorrow inside me is until now; as the tenth anniversary approaches.
It’s terribly lonely living in a place where there is no one else who knows what it was like to be in New York City that day. As much as they might try, no one can truly know what I go through each day. I do have my therapist and she at least understands the effects of post traumatic stress, so that is helpful. Her office has become my refuge.
I hesitate to share my emotions with my parents because I know they worry enough about me already. And they have their own memories of that day as they watched the television; unable to reach me.
For a number of years, after moving here, I searched often for organizations or support groups for the survivors of 9/11. What I did find was always for the families who lost someone. But never anything for the people who were the eyewitnesses and survivors of that day. I finally stopped looking.
And then, at the beginning of this year I found a group, “Voices of September 11”. Once a month this organization provides a teleconference session for survivors; facilitated by a therapist. I have participated in three of them up to now.
Then, about three weeks ago, a friend from California called to tell me of a website someone told him about; “World Trade Center Survivors Network.” Through that group I have found another survivors support group on Google Groups.
For seven years I have never been in contact with another survivor of 9/11 and now I’m speaking with, and writing to, a number of them. I can’t describe the tremendous comfort and solace I receive in having people in my life now who know just what I mean when I express a feeling or a thought; not having to explain myself. And the emails they send could have been written by me; there’s that much clarity and understanding when I read them. I sense new friendships beginning already because of the kinship we share in our collective experiences of 9/11.
The puzzling thing is that these groups have been around for years and I am only now becoming aware of them. My therapist suggests perhaps I wasn’t ready until now. Is this yet another example of those cosmic questions?
So this Friday, once in New York, my family and I will go to Ground Zero. We plan to go after the work day hours; early in the evening. I know that it is a construction site now; with evidence of new buildings but it is still sacred ground to me. I want to stand where I stood that morning. I want to remember, and acknowledge, those who died. For whatever reason, it’s important for me to retrace my steps of that morning with my family; that they might have a better understanding of what it was like for me. That will be on Friday.
Then Saturday morning we are going back to Ground Zero to visit the WTC Tribute Center, which is near by. One of the people I’ve been emailing with, Brian, is going to meet us there. This will be the first time I’ll be able to look into the eyes of someone who witnessed what I did and we’ll not have to say a word to convey our stories to one another.
We will come back to Lancaster Saturday afternoon. This weekend isn’t about visiting the city but about reclaiming the place it’s had in my life and heart. It’s about returning to pay long overdue respect to all who died. I was unaware of this being Easter weekend when I made this decision, but do not take lightly the “timing” and the symbolism of rebirth and rebuilding and the affirmation of life.
At the end of both my play and my book I wrote “to honor those who are gone, I will not forget to live.” I am sorry to say I have not always kept that promise since leaving New York. At times it seems I’ve forgotten it completely. 9/11 changed my life, as I knew it, forever. I am not the same person I was on September 10, 2001. Perhaps none of us are.
From the recent exchanges I’ve had with other survivors I know I will never “get over” what happened that day. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to move past it. But I can move forward; just as the city I love is doing. To move forward is not to forget. I realize that now.
And now perhaps I can write “to honor those who are gone, I will not forget to rebuild and reaffirm my life and to move forward.”
