Osama bin Laden outlived my husband 291 days.
Each morning I get up, drink my orange juice while the coffee brews, then head over to the laptop to see what headlines I can stomach. Today I was smacked in the face with history.
The fall of 2001 had Steve living in New York until he could get a job in Richmond. I would spend a week or two in Queens with him and every two weeks he'd line up interviews and drive here for a three day weekend. We weren't in a big rush, expecting everything to work out in due time. All the major decisions had been made. We'd get married, we'd live in Richmond, we'd be patient while waiting for our future to meet us.
On the morning of September 11th, I ignored the ringing phone to sleep in. I was supposed to have left for New York the night before but put my trip off for twenty-four hours so I could be well rested as I always made the drive at night. I finally crawled out of bed to answer the hammering at my door, a friend who was worried about me and where I might be located.
There were a dozen messages on my machine. My family wanting to know where I was. Wanting to know if Steve and his family was safe. Messages from Steve letting me know again and again that he was safe. Messages and messages. All I wanted was to crawl into Steve's arms. All I wanted was to go to him.
I spent thirty minuets hitting redial trying to get through to Steve at his office in White Plains. I wanted to hear his voice. I needed him to calm me and tell the world was still a safe place. I worried about my future in-laws, my new family, who lived and worked nearby. He hadn't mentioned them in his messages. Whether I was married in or not, I had already accepted the DeRose's as my family.
Evidently, they had accepted me as well. When I finally spoke to Steve he said his mother was fine, she could smell the smoke but was all nestled in the house. She was worried about me, though. She was convinced a plane was going to crash into my house. It took me another half an hour of hitting redial to get a call in to her. She started crying immediately and begging me to get in my car and drive as fast as I could. She had heard a plane was heading to DC and only understood that I lived closer to DC than New York. It took awhile but I managed to convince her I wasn't near enough to DC for a plane to confuse me for the nation's capitol.
Steve wasn't going to be able to head south anytime soon. We decided the best place for him was with his family, his cousin, in Westchester. He wouldn't come to Richmond until he could stop in and check on his mother, housebound in Queens. I didn't sleep again until he was by my side, anxious and nervous as I was. I had to wait another thirty-six hours.
September 11th was the day Steve and I realized we could no longer be patient about our future together. It's when we realized that our very lives belonged to other and we couldn't be apart. After that, we were never separated for longer than five days at a time. It's when I knew, by my depth of worry for his family, that I'd taken the DeRose's into my life and heart. It's when I saw that they had done the same of me. September 11th was a day of fear and catastrophe but also a day of love and inclusion. It was the day we learned our families had already expanded to include each other.
While everyone has their own September 11th stories, mine was the start of my married life, my supposed to be happily-ever-after life. Today feels like the conclusion of the 9-11 story. Only there is no full circle for me. The person I shared that chaotic time with is gone. And I'm left to write my own ending.
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