Five Years On

      

Five years on. 

This is a tough day, still, for many people.  Not just New Yorkers, or folks who work in the Pentagon.  It’s a tough day for all of us who live and work in this country.  Whether you’re a Democrat or a Republican, whether you live in a blue state or a red one, whether you think the war is a good idea, or not.  It’s a tough day. 

It was a tough enough day for me, until a couple of weeks ago.  I thought that I’d discovered everything I needed to discover about that day.  I thought I had a pretty full inventory of the people that I knew died that day.  I was wrong.  I’m still finding out about people I knew. 

Five years on. 

A few weeks ago, the last transcripts of phone calls made from the Trade Center were made public.  The one transcript, in particular, that got a lot of airplay was from a young woman named Melissa Doi.  This one call got a lot of play because Melissa kept saying; “I’m going to die” – and we all read the story and some of us listened to the call, and we all were brought back to that day, and lived alongside Melissa for a moment.  I was busy at work when that story came out, and I heard about it, but I never read the article all the way through.  It hurt too much, frankly.  Then I got a phone call at work from a friend I used to work with, in the early 90s. His name is Dom, and he said, have you seen this story about the woman calling from the Trade Center?  I said I had, but hadn’t really read it.  Dom said, it’s Melissa, from Rowland.  And so I mentally added one more victim to my personal inventory. 

Five years on. 

I knew Melissa because her mom, Evelyn, worked in the PR agency that I worked for, and Evelyn got Melissa a job there.  To be honest, I didn’t know Melissa well.  She played for the company softball team, and she was fun, and she was Evelyn’s daughter, so she was all right with me.  I liked Evelyn, and I knew that her family meant the world to her.  So Melissa was part of the Rowland “family.”  Fast forward some – she was working for IQ Financial Services, on the 83^rd floor of the South Tower, and placed the call that’s now part of the pain of that day.  If you want to listen to it, you can do so here.  I’m not advocating this.  The thing about the call is, Melissa is clearly panicked, but she’s still thinking, and at one point she says to the operator:

“I’m going to die, aren’t I?”

The operator says, no, no, no, no, no – then the operator, who was also thinking, says;

“Ma’am, say your prayers.”

The operator knew damn well that things weren’t looking good for Melissa.  She asked them to call her mother, Evelyn, but they couldn’t do it.  So the operator stayed on with Melissa until she couldn’t talk any more.  There are some reports that Melissa made it part of the way down the stairs, and some reports that she died while on the phone.  Either way, it’s still paralyzing to think about.  Still. 

Five years on. 

I’m sorry for what Melissa went through, and I’m sorry for what Evelyn is going through, all these years later.  I’m sorry for what all of us went through, and are still going through.  I look up a lot more than I used to.  I’ve always kept a lookout for planes, but now when I see a plane over Manhattan, I watch it for an extra moment; is it on course?  Or too low?  I’m sorry that my dear friend Mike lost so many friends at Cantor Fitzgerald that day, and I’m sorry for me and my family, who died a little every minute for two days, when we thought that Mike had died.  When you die a little, you don’t get that part of yourself back.  Mike, like all of us, is different now.  Before, he had the easiest laugh in the world; now, it takes him just a heartbeat longer to laugh.  The heartbeat feels like forever to me, and I’ll bet it feels even longer to Mike.  He still doesn’t really talk about that day.

Five years on. 

I’ve written about September 11^th before; if you so choose, you can read this or this or this.  Following is a picture of Melissa, smiling and happy.  Like we all were. 

Five years ago. 

Comments

[scribbler]

Really well written, Liz.
I do that 'watch the plane over Manhattan' thing too.
It's too hard because it's so random. it could have been anybody. Just a roll of the dice. No way to know that you'd go to work on a Tues. just minding your own business and then that's it. game over. Not like you joined the Army & they sent you to war & well, that's the risk of going to war.
It was so utterly over the top. Completely ridiculous in it's size & measure. So profoundly unbelievable. I don't think I'll ever really be able to get my head around it.

[Alberta Rozsay]

Liz
This is a very well written piece. It breaks my heart to read and hear accounts of the events of that terrible day. I recall the terror and panic I felt when I couldn't get in touch with my kids as hours ticked on and on....and then the relief I felt when an e-mail came through saying simply, "I'm ok". The relief was fleeting however as I thougt of the other Moms, sisters, wives, cousins, friends still looking, looking and looking for their dear ones... to no avail.

[Alberta]

Liz
Pix are great. Hope you had a great time on your European adventures.
By the way I'm partial to a few of those pictures... Can you guess which ones?