Barry’s (bbd) beautiful 9/11 remembrance post reminded me not only of this quote, but of how this sentiment resonated with me on that day.

I imagine that most American’s see the events of this day primarily as an American tragedy. I don’t argue with that sentiment at all, but I can tell you that it was much more than that for those of us watching from across the border. On that day, I was in my Toronto apartment. I was working from home. I sometimes got a late start as far as getting out of my jammies, but I usually had the radio and the computer fired up by 8:30. And on that day, it was no different.

It was a news item on CBC radio that made me break my cardinal rule about turning on the TV during business hours. From the moment I heard Diane Sawyer’s voice and saw the initial pictures of smoke billowing out of the first tower, I was glued to the television until late that night.

There would be no work that day.

I was struck by what a picture perfect day it was in New York. I looked outside, and we had the same kind of perfect day. I was married only a couple of weeks earlier on another picture perfect sunny day. Not a wisp of humidity, a subtle breeze, a sky of flawless blue. On two perfect days late that summer, my world was irrevocably changed.

Then I watched the second plane hit. Along with the world, I watched in stunned disbelief. My mind raced to all the possible ways to save people. Even before the newscasters got to it, I tried to calculate how many people were in those buildings.

My mind went immediately to the time I visited the World Trade Center in the early 1980s. I recalled the immenseness of the foyer, how long and shaky the elevator ride was. I also recalled having to change elevators part way up. I remembered standing on the roof of one of the towers and staring at the next tower and thinking how impossibly close it seemed. I also recalled the strength of the wind. My heart sank for those people waiting there to be rescued. Very early on, I knew in my heart there was no hope for those at the top.

I had no idea.

When the first tower fell, I stood with my hands on my face, peering through my fingers and repeating, Oh my God no, Oh my God no, Oh my God no throughout those agonizing seconds.

And then there was silence.

Over the course of the day, the silence became more deafening as the office towers in my own city were evacuated. The traffic that streamed out of the city eventually became a trickle. The planes stopped flying after all the US planes had safely landed on Canadian soil.

The sun and the blue sky was all that remained the same.

I spoke briefly with a few people by telephone, but I spent the day alone. One person I spoke to was an airline attendant, and we would find out later that she knew the wife of one of the Canadians lost that day. The other was my new husband who made regular plane trips into the US. His employees were stranded in Denver. He was supposed to be there too. Those flights were the type of flights he made several times a month.

What I never felt once during that day was a sense of separation.

I never felt that this was happening to THEM. It was happening to US; it was happening to ME. I’d walked those streets. I’d done business in that town. I had friends there. I’d flown in the cockpit of an Air Canada jet during takeoff from JFK and watched in awe as we flew past the Towers at an elevation that was lower than the top of the buildings. I had stood where those people were standing now.

My city was just as vulnerable to whatever this was. My world was just as vulnerable.

My heart ached for us; for all of us.

Too much has changed since the pictures below were taken. Too much has changed over the last eight years. But one thing I still hang onto is the sense of connectedness I felt that day with not only New York and the United States, but also with the world. What I lost was the sense of true hope I had when I awoke to the silent sky the next day.

I hoped for change. I hoped that from that moment of connectedness around the globe would emerge a new world that would make the loss of life and innocence somehow bearable. I hoped the world would turn on this axis and become somehow better. I was wrong.

Rest in Peace - Namaste