Remembering Sept. 11, 2001: A Military Family

I remember my brother calling me from his cable route and asking if I had heard about the plane running into the World Trade Center. I turned my television on and was instantly transported to a smoke-filled sky and two towers... one injured... standing there in the middle of my TV screen. Suddenly, I watched in horror as another plane flew into the other tower, and I realized along with Americans across this great country that it was no accident. America was under attack.

My two younger children were in school that morning. I went to wake my older son up. He was enjoying his last few weeks of being "just a teenager" as he was due to go to basic training at Fort Jackson, South Carolina, on October 1. My first conversation with him that day consisted of my telling him we would get him out of his contract and his telling me that it was more important than ever that he go to basic and protect his country, his brother and sister and me.

I called my younger children's schools and was told by staff members that it would be best to leave the kids there, although I was free to get them if I really wanted to. My children had been military brats and we had lived on an air base in north Texas at the time of the Oklahoma City bombing and knew a little bit about what an attack could mean.

I remember the shock of that day and the ones following. I remember the pride I felt when our president brought us all together in prayer. I remember tears for those who had fallen and hope for those not yet found. I remember the awe I felt at the courage of those who took over a plane that crashed in a field in Pennsylvania so it could not hurt or kill more innocent people. I remember hoping no one would forget that the Pentagon was also hit that day, not just the World Trade Center.

That day seven years ago affected every American in one way or another. My son went to basic only to be sent to Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, a couple of weeks later because of the over-crowding as more young people joined in order to protect the country they loved. As weeks turned into months and it became apparent that we would go to war, my family became even more personally affected by the fallout of that September day.

My younger children were among the first in our city and their schools to have a sibling in a war zone. I will never forget the wonderful support and concern their teachers and administrators showed over the next couple of years and especially that first year when every knock or phone call came with a touch of fear. I will never forget the day in early May 2003 when my son's unit had its first casualty announced on the news only to find out hours later that it was an erroneous report.

It would be the first of many hours sat waiting until the post could finally announce the family had been notified. It taught me that even families have their own survivor's guilt as the news brought bittersweet feelings of relief that our soldier was spared and pain for another family who had a loved one make the ultimate sacrifice.

September 11, 2001, changed my family and my life in so many ways. I will never forget those who lost their lives that day just because they innocently went about their jobs and routines. I will never forget those who never reached their destinations on the planes taken over. I am grateful that my son came home from Iraq and while he fights his own demons and wounds from this war. I know it is because of a day that began seven years ago as just another Tuesday morning and ended with the loss of our innocence before we retired to bed that evening.