I thought as time would go on I would forget .... but that is not the case.  

Every day I think of my co-workers who died as the buildings fell into a pile of ash and smoke; I still miss them very much even now.

I still have nightmares about the attacks: the planes coming in, the ball of fire as the buildings, first one, then the other, exploded, hearing the glass shatter, seeing people running or jumping for their very lives ... it's a thousand miracles that I managed to get out when I did; otherwise, I would not be here to share this, my story.

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I lost my brother, who was a firefighter, in the attacks in New York City.  He was only 35 years old; he left behind his wife and two small children.  The day he died, no the day nearly 3,000 people, died, was the worst possible event in so many Americans' lives, including mine.

For the longest time, I could not forget the people responsible; it took plenty of therapy and counseling to help me accept what had happened.  Whle I still have my bad days, I am trying to move on, as best as I can, and I still hang out with my sister in law and her kids, who are the biggest blessings in my life.  Through them, Jirah's memory lives on, and I see Jirah in both Atul and Punjab.  They have grown into wonderful, caring, thoughtful teenagers and I love them both with all my heart.

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I lost my best friend.  Her name was Stephanie Green.  She was in the North Tower when it fell; they didn't find her body until weeks later, amidst all the rubble.  Upon hearing the news, I thought I would go mad with grief.  I nearly did.  I have had trouble sleeping since that time, but happily, I have gotten help and am taking medications to help me relax at night.

I still have nightmares and cry from time to time, but I have been going to counseling and have been doing a lot of journaling as a way to help me deal with the horrors of that day.

Now that Osama bin Laden has been killed, I can rest a little easier, but it still doesn't make it easier for me.  I still have flashbacks, but as I said, I am going through therapy and am moving past that terrible time in my life.  

I miss Stephanie with everything that I have.  I still talk to her parents about her and I have plenty of happy memories of when we were in Africa and when she helped me with my citizenship tests.  She was full of life and always had a smile on her face.  I think her smile is what I remember most about Stephanie ... that, and her laugh, which sounded like the tinkling of bells.

I think if I have another child (God forbid; I already have ten!) and it is a girl, I will name her Stephanie Hope, as a way of honoring my best friend.  I think that would be wonderful, but the children I have now keep me so busy!  LOL  I think that's the best I could do to keep her memory (and name) alive.

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I lost over a dozen of my co-workers.  Some of us got out, but most didn't.  When the planes hit, I and my best friend, Wendie Jo, were across the street, getting something to eat; we were on our hour break.  The roar was deafening; I thought the building would fall on top of us.

I laid on top of Wendie, to protect her; she had spina bifida and was in a wheelchair (used crutches for short trips).  As a result, shrapnel hit me in the leg, and that night, I woke up in incredible pain.  Turns out my leg got infected, so much, I ended up in the hospital; after that, I don't remember much until I woke up later, only to find out I had lost my leg because I had an overwhelming infection that could have easily killed me.

I not only had the memories of the attacks to deal with: I had the loss of my leg and the loss of so many of my co workers (13 total).  THEN, on top of all that, I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and fibromyalgia.  It was a horrific time and it took years for me to finally accept what had happened. I spent months in therapy; I thought I was going crazy.

Then I found God, and He healed me in so many ways.  From tragedy came hope and His grace and mercies; He also brought me a man (my physical therapist) who would eventually become my husband, and two beautiful, precious children whom I love with all my being.  He took something ugly and turned it into something wonderful.  It was and still is amazing to think about!  God has been so good to me, even in all this!

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I really never knew my mother, but I have plenty of pictures and movies (videos) about her.  

My mom died in the September 11, 2001 attacks on New York City and in Washington DC (as well as that field in Pennsyvlania).  My mom worked at the Pentagon.  She was only 30, way too young.  She left behind two kids (me and my big brother) and a grieving husband.  

I had no clue nothing had happened until I was much older.  I was barely past infancy when this happened.  Then I learned about what really happened to my mom; for years, I thought she had left for another man or had died in a car wreck; Daddy really would never talk about it.  Whenever I pressed him about it, he would break down into tears, and it totally devastated me.  

If my mom had still lived, she would be in her early forties now.  

My mom was beautiful: she looked like a Greek goddess with her long, black hair, dark eyes, and olive-complexioned skin tone.  She loved to laugh and sing; she was always happy and had a smile on her face.  She had the voice of an angel and was an amazing cook, according to Daddy.

Now all I have are memories in photos, movies, or videos, and I treasure them always.  I just wish I could have known about what had happened to her earlier than I did; maybe it would have helped me with my ongoing depression (of which I am going through mental health counseling; I go several times a week, plus I belong to a group of children who lost their parents to illness, murder, or accidents).  It helps a lot, but I still get sad, especially around September 11 or around holidays like Thanksgiving or Christmas.

~To be continued.~