Every year like clockwork on September 11th I get a message. They started as notes of thanks. This year it was a simple “thinking of you”. As the years go by there isn’t much need for anything more. I know what she means. I know what she is saying in her simple words.
On that disastrous day, I remember clearly waking up the morning not yet realizing the world had changed. I was laying in bed and the alarm clock went off and as usual my then boyfriend (now husband) was hitting the snooze button when he sat up straight. We went downstairs and were glued to CNN for hours. Watching the towers fall again and again.
For those of us alive and old enough to understand, the stories of September 11th are familiar. We all remember in great detail where we were and what we were doing when the towers fell. At that moment somewhere over the North American sky an airplane was being rerouted in my direction.
I was 19 when I first met Jennie. She was dating my brother and they lived together for years. Despite our 12 year age difference she always treated me like I was a mature equal, even when my brother didn’t. For a girl that grew up with two older brothers, Jennie was the closest thing to an older sister that I had at that point in my life. I was with them when they moved in together. Jennie came to my first wedding. My brother flew me down to be with them when my young marriage fell apart. So you see she was a part of our family and a part of my life through some painful transitions. We all loved her.
For reasons better left between my brother and Jennie, it didn’t work out. They split up and we understandably didn’t hear from Jennie for a while. When couples separate there is always collateral damage. I already knew this from my own divorce. It is a painful unfortunate reality. My relationship with Jennie changed. I was okay with it. I assume that they made that choice for good reasons that had nothing to do with me. I was saddened that I wouldn’t get a chance to say good bye.
Believe it or not I got that chance on September 11th. Jennie is British. She was flying back to Los Angeles after a visit with her family in England. She was one of the unfortunate souls that had their planes grounded when the terrorists forced the closure of American airspace. By complete serendipity her plane landed in Edmonton. Thankfully she was bold enough to call my parents and ask for a place to stay. My parents were happy to oblige.
It was a gift for my parents to see her again. It was a gift for me to get the opportunity to talk to her, acknowledge her role in my life and for her to see me happy and healthy. And I think it was a gift for her to have familiar people to share the terrifying, intense and chaotic experinece with.
We have all grown and changed since that time. My brother is married to a wonderful woman that I am proud to call my sister in law. They have two kids. Jennie has a husband and son. I am married with kids of my own. I can only hope that we are all happy. I know I am. But every September 11th I get a message that reminds me of her, reminds me of a younger version of myself and reminds me that even in the terror of that day, there are stories of wonder and hope.