My 9/11 day. My husband. The meaning of my to-do list.

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I was standing at the bottom of the Word Trade Center when it fell. I was standing so close that I didn’t know it fell. I thought earthquake, until I couldn’t breathe. Then I thought nuclear bomb.

Now, when I let my head go back to that day, there are two moments I most easily go back to:

Moment 1: At one point I was with five men in dress shirts and ties totally covered with debris. We had each climbed into a bank next to the World Trade Center site. Debris coated our throats and we had all just fought over who got to drink water out of the toilet. When it turned out there was enough water, we went together to a hallway and sat on the floor. I started crying. The guys looked at me like I was going to be trouble and moved away. But one guy put his arm around me.

Moment 2: Minutes later. The men and I split up outside and lost each other quickly. None of us had any idea where we were. There was no one walking. I was all alone. I was still so disoriented that I didn’t know the building fell, even though I was walking at the site. Then some woman, wearing completely clean clothing, took my hand and told me to walk with her. She shepherded me nearly ten miles on foot, patiently waiting through my many screaming panic attacks, to her apartment on the Upper West Side.

Those are the two scenes I usually think about when I think about 9/11. But sometimes, if I am feeling like it might be an okay time to cry, I’ll let myself go to other stuff. Like, the part right before I heard someone break a window in that bank. The part when I thought I would die. I remember realizing my mouth was open but I was not taking in air. So I shut my mouth. I remember thinking I wish I had shut my mouth sooner so maybe I could have held air in my body a few seconds longer.

Then I accepted death. That does really happen. You quickly run through everything that matters. It is so fast how you do that. Because I know you know this: Not much matters. I had no kids. I thought of my brothers and my husband. I felt sad. Then I felt fine. And I waited to die. I could not find anything else to do. I could not see or breathe.

Then I did not die. Then I climbed in that bank window.

People wonder what the hell I’m still doing with my husband when things are so bad between us right now. But I have been one minute from death, and all I wanted in that moment was to see what life would be like with him. That’s what I wanted. I felt enormous disappointment that I would never know.

I just wanted to see things with us unfold. So I’m not giving that up. Not now.

And here’s what happened when I got to that Upper West Side apartment. My husband walked ten miles to pick me up. I told him I was fine and he took me straight to the hospital. He told me, later, that even though the woman put me in the shower, even though I did not say what happened, he could still see debris stuck deep in my ear and he knew that things had been bad.

Doctors bandaged my eyes shut. My husband held my arm for three days, showing me where to go. For a week, he stayed by my side every moment. I didn’t shower. I barely slept. My ability to stay in reality was limited. And he was there the whole time.

And then, months later, I went to trauma recovery group. A lot. And then I started reframing the story. I stopped blaming myself for walking toward the World Trade Center when I heard there was danger. I stopped thinking of the trauma as derailing my life and started thinking of it as a new path. And then, I started working. A little at first. But soon, at full-throttle.

So, look, it’s true that I know what it’s like to be on one’s death bed. That saying that you never say, “I wish I worked harder.” It’s absurd. You don’t have any thoughts like that at all. You just have your family in your heart. You see there is not a lot of room for stuff there. Your family takes up everything in those last seconds.

And then, you go back to work and it’s totally stupid. Right? What is more important than being with your family? That’s what you say to yourself.

But here’s what I am giving up. The idea that every second could be my last second. Because then you are not living life. Yes, it’s true, work is not as meaningful as family. And yes, it’s true, I did not think about my to-do list when I faced death. But if you’re not dead, your to-do list matters. Because that’s what life is. Life is getting up and going to work on things that are high on your list. Work in your pajamas, maybe, or in a corn field, or in the car to drive the kids to school. It’s all work. It’s what we’re doing here. And it’s a treat.

So what has changed? I appreciate kindness more. The kindness of an arm around my shoulder, the kindness of a warm shower from a stranger. The kindness of my husband. And I appreciate the daily routine of life. Waking up. Tending the to-do list. And not treating every moment like it’s my last. Because it’s not. This is my life, unfolding. It’s my dream come true. It’s not unfolding like I thought it would, but I’m getting to watch it. Thank god.

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  1. Michael Cortes
    Michael Cortes says:

    Please allow me to say a few bad things about you. No, they are not reflections of you… these thoughts, which I let grow in my head, should be a reflection of me. “Why does her husband stay with her?” “How can she keep airing her laundry that way?” “Doesn’t she realize the things she is telling people about her husband?” “I don’t think I would put up with that.”

    Then you had to go and post this post!

    Thank you, Penelope. And please forgive my judgements. Thank you for reminding me of what I believe, for bringing things into focus, for just showing why we all stick with each other and just work through it… no matter what.

    I am reminded that when we are at the end, we will remember the good times. I have no doubt, you will remember that he walked ten miles for you. And hopefully my wife will have a memory, just as wonderful, about me. I will not know it, but that will be proof that I earned it.

  2. Adina
    Adina says:

    Penelope,
    Thanks for sharing. The lessons we learn from life experiences outweigh all else. Bless you for being strong and human in all of life’s moments, that is the greatest gift we can give ourselves.

  3. Monica Muehsam
    Monica Muehsam says:

    Your 9/11 piece really moved me to tears- a trite, overused expression, but it really did. My dad just passed away last week and when I read the part that your family was all you could think about when you thought you were going to die, it brought tears to my eyes. I was happy to know that my dad was thinking of us when it was his time. It made it a little easier on me, since the lasting impression that I have of him is lying in his hospice bed, struggling to breathe and unable to communicate. Knowing he was thinking of all of us even though he couldn’t tell us how he felt was immensely comforting. Thanks.

  4. Dan
    Dan says:

    That reminds me of days at work when I hate my job. I tell people that “it beats being unemployed.” I’d rather suffer through a bad day than not have a job to go to daily. I saw my father unemployed as a kid and it sucked the life right out of him, as he was too old to find a job that paid enough to support his family as not many want a man over 50 to hire when they can hire someone much younger for less.

    When I think like that, these trials and tribulations seem small.

  5. sylvain
    sylvain says:

    I feel honored to read your post

    it really moved me. Then I remember what I was doing this day and how I learned what happened.

    I’m glad you survied.

    Thank you very much

  6. Andy
    Andy says:

    A very moving story. It’s an unfortunate fact of life that we don’t really see what’s most important to us until the moment it’s gone. Whenever I read stories like this it makes me think about my own life and what I could really do to maximise what I have and what’s important to me.

  7. Nikki May | Copywriting Services
    Nikki May | Copywriting Services says:

    Hi Penelope,

    I know this is WAY late.

    But this is my first time here and I read this post.
    I just wanted to let know that I was really touched by this – €“ thanks for sharing it.

    Our capacity as human being beings to go through and survive the worst trauma and hardships, and rise from all that – is simply amazing.

    Things that we encounter in our lives make us see and appreciate our lives from a new angle.

    I really like your blog – €“ will be reading it regularly.

    Best,
    Nikki

  8. Susan
    Susan says:

    I love how you articulated so well why and how our to do list becomes important again. There’s a 9/11 history project somewhere online that compiled our memories of that day (I was in D.C.) … yours belongs on that website. I’ve read (and written/edited) a lot about that day … and the Newseum has a really moving section/film devoted to it… your blog post belongs in it somehow. I stumbled on your blog and am just now poking around because I loved your career advice and it’s relevent to my job. I can tell I’m going to be a fan.

  9. Free online TV
    Free online TV says:

    I can still remember my fear when I saw 9/11 in the news that day… However it cannot be compared with the fear of those people being there at the moment…

    Penelope, the last passage made me cry. You’re damn right, we cant think of the current day as the last one, long and happy future is awaiting us for sure!

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