Print Issue: September 12, 2002

A Year Later: Life Goes On

By Rebecca Rakoczy, Executive Editor

I had turned on the TV just in time to see the second plane, oh so tiny on my screen, hit the second World Trade Center tower and explode. The first plane hitting the first tower seemed a fluke, a flight plan gone tragically awry. But this . . .

My husband, Rick, had left that morning at 8:30 a.m., on a Delta flight, bound for New Orleans and a day-long business trip. A short flight from Atlanta. Be back tonight around 7, he said.

My girls had started their day at school.

As the morning continued to unfold unbelievably there was more news; a third plane had hit the Pentagon, then soon after, another went down in Pennsylvania.

What was happening?

I desperately tried to call my husband's cell phone. Then it hit me. He was still in the air somewhere. He was there with countless other husbands, wives, girlfriends, grandmothers and grandfathers - and children, hurtling toward their destination of . . . what? I thought of a cousin, working across the street from the World Trade Center. I thought of my parents who lived just outside of Washington, D.C.

I felt anchorless and ill. The unreal image of the towers collapsing. The burning fuselage in the Pentagon. So is this the end of our world as we know it?

I called my girlfriend Joanne.

Meet me at church, she said.

And so we went to our parish. When we got out of church, our pastor, Father Frank, stood at the front door, shaking his head. We asked him, "What should we tell the children?"

"Don't frighten them. Be calm."

But I was shaking, worried. A few people were already in the church as guardians for Tuesday adoration; soon more trickled into the sanctuary as news of the attacks spread.

Joanne and I got on our knees and started praying. Across the aisle, rosaries were pulled out.

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.
Mother of God, protect us.

We prayed like little children, scared, pleading for favors.

Help me, God. God, please take care of those poor people and their families. God, please give us strength, give me strength.

What do you have in store for us, Lord? Am I ready?

Lord, make my husband's plane come down safely.

Oh Jesus, why did those people have to die? What kind of evil world do we live in?

I wondered if this is how people felt when Pearl Harbor was hit; stunned by the news, not sure if our senses were registering that there had been an attack of massive proportions on American soil.

Back at home there was a message on the phone from my husband. Call me.

Thank God!

There were others who sadly didn't get any message. And others, in our technologically bizarre and comforting world, received last phone calls from the air as they waited for their deaths. I love you, they said.

I looked back this year and read the September 2001 Magnificat, trying to find the right biblical passage for reflection. I stop at the Psalm prayer for the morning of Sept. 10. In hindsight, it seems prophetic, yet it also holds comfort.

"God is for us a refuge and
strength, a helper close at hand
in times of distress. So we shall
not fear though the earth should
rock, though the mountains fall
into the depths of the sea . . .
The Lord of hosts is with us, the
God of Jacob is our stronghold."

On Sept. 11, 2002 we gathered in our churches, synagogues and mosques and remembered those who died. We prayed. We worried. We looked for messages of hope in the past tragedy. I remembered, but my husband wasn't with me. He had left that day for another business trip.

Life goes on. If anything is to be learned from the horrors of the past year, it is this: Cherish your life. Tell your family you love them, often. Know that we are here for just a short time at God's will, and do something that makes you happy.

And keep praying.