Wow. That is a day that I don’t think anybody in this
country will ever forget.
I remember everything about that day. I was working as a
receptionist for a global firm, and people were running into one of the
conference rooms. They were screaming to turn the TV on. I was on the phone,
and I could hear people softly crying. Once I was able to get off the phones, I
joined everybody else in the conference room. It was eerily quiet as we watched
people running. I remember the sadness in the voice of the reporter. I remember
praying, and wondering how anybody could survive this catastrophe. I wondered
how long that tower could stand on its own, and what would happen to the people
inside if / when the tower fell apart. We were all silently watching the chaos
going on, and then the second plane hit the tower. The sound of sobs filled the
room. The amount of ‘Oh my Gods” could not be counted. Disbelief, sadness, and
fear gripped everybody in that conference room. It was at that moment that it
dawned on everybody that this was no accident. We were under attack. Not in some far-off
land. Not in a this-is-only-TV kind of way. On our own soil. Under attack. This
is the moment I started to cry.
Our conference room looked out into a big, wide space. There
were no buildings to block out view of the Ohio River. I remember I kept
looking back to see if there was a plane behind us. I checked that window at
least 10 times while we listened to the news.
We listened as the report told stories of people jumping
out of windows, plummeting to their deaths. THIS was something that shook me to
my core. These people went to work the same way that I did that day. Going to
work, and then having to decide your manner of death. It’s too much to even
connect with, or touch on in any kind of real way. It was so unbelievable that people
had to choose between burning to death, or splattering below on the concrete. God
knows how many stories these people fell. What they must’ve been thinking and
feeling as they free-fell awaiting their deaths. Did they think of their loved
ones? Or maybe they wondered if their death would be instant. I wonder if they
regretted their decision to take that final leap. Even thinking about this now makes
my chest tight. It brings such a feeling of dread and sadness. Out of ALL of my
9/11 memories, this is the one that fuc*s me up the most.
Shortly after the second plane hit the tower, our
building was evacuated. Our building was attached to The Federal Building, and
there were fears that federal buildings across the country could possibly be
the next target. Fear was running rampant at this point. Have you ever felt
fear so prevalent that you were sure you could reach out and touch it? So real
that you could smell it? So real that absolutely nothing else existed at that
moment? We all felt it.
We hurried to evacuate the building, and ran out of the
building like our lives were in danger. People from all over downtown filled
the streets. We were all in utter disbelief. I just remember I wanted to get as
far away from The Federal Building as I could.
While I was running away, all I could think of was the
victims. The family members of the victims. The passengers in the 3 planes. The
first responders. I’m sure that they trained for all kinds of disasters, but
for this? They did an AMAZING job, and they have nothing but respect from me,
and I’m sure from everyone in the country. Where / how did they even start? My
heart really went out the first responders. They were thrown into an
unbelievable situation. I found myself praying that they would experience no
guilt about the people who couldn’t be saved. I know that their bodies were
tired, and I can only imagine that many of them walked away heartbroken at what
they witnessed. I still say prayers for them, and their mental health.
My oldest niece turned 11 on 9/11/11, and I remember that
we did not celebrate her birthday that year. We wanted to, but we were all so
sad. We did celebrate her birthday a week or so later. But I do remember
wondering if she understood our sadness. She was a child, and maybe all she
knew was that everybody skipped her birthday. I’ll have to ask her that one
day.
In closing; what I remember about 9/11/11 is being truly
afraid. Feeling unsafe in a way I had never experienced before. I remember that
life as we all knew it was changed forever. It was like life became before 9/11
and after 9/11. Not just life. I remember having to turn off the TV because the
stories got more and more grim. 9/11 cast such a dark shadow over the world. Every
now and then I would hear a story about a survivor that managed to live, and
that was amazing – and a testament to the human spirit. I cheered those rare
moments. 9/11 made us all realize that America was vulnerable, too. We weren’t
this big, untouchable powerhouse anymore. We were just like everybody else. But
mostly; 9/11 showed me the power of hate, and also the power of love. To this
day, I still question which one is more powerful. I do believe more people love
than hate, but those 2 missing towers remind me of what can happen when hate,
power, and evil connect. God bless each and every one of the 2,977 victims who
lost their lives on this day. RIP ♥
© Antoinette Davis, October
24, 2019
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