Philip’s Story
I remember this day seven years ago. It was an absolutely beautiful day. The sun was shining, there was a slight breeze and the temperature was mild.
My husband called to tell me that he was ok. “Of course you are,” I said. “Everything’s going on in New York.”
Then he informed me that one of his co-workers had seen a plane hit the Pentagon. Not a minute later, the newscast I was watching starting showing the evacuation of the White House, a black plume of smoke visible in the background. It took several more minutes of speculation before they were confirming what Philip had told me.
This part of the story is unremarkable. The part that really gives you cause to stop and contemplate the hand of God is that Philip was supposed to be at the Pentagon that day.
When he started his job in July 2001, his office was located in an office building in Crystal City, not far from the physical structure of the Pentagon. He was assigned to one of the many departments temporarily displaced by the renovation of the Pentagon, but they were planning on moving in to their new office space in August. His first week at the new job he told me he wouldn’t bother bringing in his box of office decorations because they’d be moving in a month.
Well, government contractors aren’t known for their ability finish a job on time and to standard, so it was no surprise when the August move-in date was pushed back until October 2001. Perhaps you remember that one reason that the Pentagon didn’t suffer more casualties was because the plane hit the empty offices that were awaiting renovation.
Later Philip brought home a map showing the parts of the building hit by the plane and destroyed by fire. Those that his department would have been sitting in were destroyed.
The hand of God, right there. It was not yet Philip’s time to go.
So yes, I remember this day seven years ago. But harder still, I remember this day four years ago. It was the beginning of the end. Every year I think I’ll be ok and make it through without crying.
Maybe next year.
I’m not sure that getting through without crying should be our goal. Your daughter’s beautiful life is worth our stopping and remembering and crying. I can’t see more than 30 seconds of footage from September 11 without having to blink back tears. I’m not sure I’d want to. When it doesn’t make me cry is when I’ll be worried.
Beautiful response, Sandy. Many prayers, Lorri. My SIL and another friend both lost babies the before and the day after. They know what you feel. God bless!
I’m so very sorry for the loss of your dear daughter. Hopefully it gives some sense of comfort and peace to know that you have a soul, a saint, praying for you before the Throne and in the arms of Our Lady – as I do too.
As the days get closer to Sept. 15th, I too relive those moments in time that forever changed our lives.
The pain in my heart is still there, but I think it feels a little softer. You and yours are on my heart and in my prayers. Love to you all!
What Sandy said…Lorri, you have the right to cry.
(((Lorri)))
Lorri,
How ironic this date on one hand can bring back such memories of gratitude and safety. Then just a few short moments later such feelings of despair and exposure. It really is so hard to wrap your brain around. Know I am praying for peace for you in the upcoming days. Just so you know. I didn’t have the honor of personally meeting little Becca, but I’ve shed a few tears for her these past few days as well. I start to feel badly about the things she’s missing, then I remember she is with you. She may not physically be here, but she’s not missing a thing! I guess the tears are from one Momma to another, who cannot imagine the pain of a day without a baby. I think we need to have some coffee. . .
My word was dance. Your anti-spam words intrigue me because they are not random letters/numbers.
These words were read at Ground Zero yesterday I believe.
…
Death leaves a heartache no one can heal.
Love leaves memories no one can steal.
— Irish saying
I too believe you should grieve your loss. Does one ever get over the loss of a child? I don’t know. I’m reading The Shack. Have you read it? This dad calls it The Great Sadness… the darkness that seems to envelope him when he thinks about the loss of his daughter. It must be normal. I know as believers we think we should be and we are told (I Thess.5:16) to be joyful all the time, but Jesus was not joyful all the time. Ecclesiastes says there is a time to weep. I do not think it’s wrong or weak to mourn the loss of Rebecca. But do not beat yourself up for not doing more to prevent her death while she was still living. Like you said for Philip, it was not yet time for him to go. You did what you thought was the right thing to do, what the medical authorities directed. It was Rebecca’s time. That sounds awful… should I delete it? But she is experiencing heaven already. She knows no pain or sorrow. She is ALIVE! And we will join her in a few short years. Now is where my word comes in…. she is able to dance and you will dance with her. Until then release your sadness with a good cry.
God Bless you all Lorri…you will be in my thoughts and prayers…