Every year leading up to this day, I feel dread, I know it’s
going to be an emotional day. A day when I will feel like a bandage has been
ripped off on a fresh wound, even 13 years later. On this day, 13 years ago, I
had just turned 16 almost 2 weeks before. Life was great, I was enjoying high
school, time with friends, being able to date boys, I had just gotten my driver’s
license and had my own car, I was busy with work and sports, learning sports
medicine, and even more importantly I had enjoyed my first year as a Fire
Explorer for the city of Bellevue, WA and loved learning about being a
firefighter, interacting with firefighters, going on ride-alongs, and getting a
taste of my dream job. I was on top of the world. Then the morning of September
11 arrived. I awoke for early morning Seminary (scripture study class with my
church), I was eating breakfast and watching the morning news with my parents
when breaking news hit and we watched the WTC North tower burning. It was
unclear at that time what had happened. It was not long after, that my Mom and
I saw a plane hit the South tower. At that moment I remember my Mom saying “We
are under attack!”. I was stunned, my brain didn’t comprehend what she meant.
Up until that moment, for the first 16 years of my life, I lived blissfully, in
a free country, where the words “war” and “terrorist attack” was something that
happened to other people in different countries. When I heard the words “terrorist
attack” come out of the mouth of my parents, my world turned upside down. Life
as I knew it had changed forever.
I had to tear myself away from the
news and drive to Seminary. I remember thinking of all the FDNY firefighters
who were running into those buildings as everyone was running out, and I said a
huge prayer for them. Seminary was solemn, we were all in shock, still trying
to understand what had happened. As soon as class was over, I ran to my car to
turn on the radio to find out what was happening and heard that a plane had hit
the Pentagon and that the South tower had collapsed. My heart sank even
further. Had the people and first responders been able to evacuate? What the
hell was going on? Were there going to be more attacks? Was my family and I
safe here in Seattle? On my drive to school, reports came in that a plane had
crashed in a Pennsylvania field, there were still speculations on what had
happened there. By the time I made it to school, I rushed into the nearest room
with a TV (the teachers lounge) and watched live as the North tower came down.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Emotions were running high, I was feeling
so many things by that point: Fear, anger, sadness, helplessness, my heart was
crushing as I heard that there were many firefighters still in those towers
when they fell. My own Brotherhood, buried and/or killed.
Throughout
the day, no school was done. We just went from class to class and watched the
news, watched as everything continued to unfold. I kept seeing replays of the
planes hitting the towers, of people jumping out of the towers, and the towers
collapsing. I thought about how horrible it must have been for people to be
jumping to their death. It was a surreal moment in time. By the time I got
home, I just felt numb. I remembered having to work that day at the Mall, I was
so mad I had to work. No one was shopping, it was dumb we had to be there.
For days, we watched TV, just glued
to it. Watching and hearing about the recovery effort and I was dying at that
point that I was only 16 and couldn’t go be a first responder and help search
the rubble. I kept thinking “If I were in that situation as a first responder,
would I have the courage to run into a building while everyone else was running
out?” I was already certain that my dream job was in being a first responder,
but it was during those questions, soul searching and the answer I had come to
terms with that solidify my decision to pursue my career in Fire/EMS. My Dad, a
veteran police officer and who also had extensive training in Post Traumatic
Stress debriefings was put on high alert that he could be called up at any
moment to go over to NYC to help and council with those involved in the rescue
efforts. He had a bag packed in his car for weeks just in case he had to leave
at any moment. I remember feeling afraid that he might have to go, and so
relieved when he didn’t. But considering I am just like him in almost every
way, and at 16 I was dying to go help search the rubble, I know he felt the
exact same way. Still, I was grateful he didn’t end up going.
There
are many other events in the weeks, months, and years that followed. I watched
my future brother in-law get deployed to Iraq within months after the attacks
and war was declared. I watched my best friends have to say goodbye to
boyfriends/fiancés as they got deployed, I watched friends get deployed and
best friends’ husbands get deployed. Like I said before, life as I knew it had
changed forever. I truly learned that Freedom doesn’t come free, that we are
all vulnerable, that this type of attack could happen at any moment. But I also
watched in the days and weeks that followed, and saw communities come together.
Families, friends and neighbors helping each other get through this difficult
time, and I saw true Patriotism show throughout the country for the first time
in possibly my entire life. For a brief moment, it didn’t matter what political
party you were, your beliefs, or religion, we were all united as Americans. It
was a bitter sweet time that I never want to forget, and vow to never forget.
To the 343 FDNY brothers lost, you are never forgotten:
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