BagongPinay - PinayNgayon - We Will Never Forget, by Olivia Rebanal

We Will Never Forget September 11
by Olivia M. Rebanal

It's been over two months since that fateful day that changed everyone's lives. But, still, we all are touched deeply by what happened that day. For some of us, we still leave in fear, we still breathe the terror. It has become something that we must face every day. I often wish that we can go back to the pre-Sept. 11th, but - sadly - we cannot.

09.11.01

I woke up early on Tuesday, September 11th, because my brother Jon was taking an early train from Penn Station in NYC to Boston. He had spent the weekend with us, and I was feeling particularly melancholic that morning because we had shared a great few days together. I don't see him much anymore, and we had spent two hours the day before at a café just talking, getting reacquainted, sharing thoughts about the future and about life. I felt close to him that morning, and I didn't want Jon to leave. I asked him if he could come back to NYC after his few days in Boston, but he told me that he had to be back in California for his confirmation class on Thursday evening.

I was at my office at 75 Park Place, about two blocks north of the World Trade Center complex, by around 8am. It was a usual morning, and I went about my morning routine. I went to the kitchen to fill up my pitcher of water for my desk, and I put my lunch in the fridge. I opened up my email and went through my "to do" list for the day. Around 8:30, I thought to call Jon because his train was scheduled to leave at that time. I was so concerned that he wouldn't find the right train tracks or that he had fallen asleep in the waiting area and not gotten on his train.

I called Jon at 8:35, and he said that he had a nice spacious seat on the train and that the train had few passengers. He said that the train was already on its way out of the city. I missed him already, and I still wished that he could stay a little longer.

I went back to my emails and printed a few things out. It was really like most other mornings. Around 8:45, I heard a plane overhead, and I was amazed that we could hear JFK airport traffic all the way in downtown Manhattan. I heard this thunderous boom, and the whole building shook and trembled. My heart skipped a beat; the few seconds of tremors reminded me of earthquakes in my childhood back in California.

I found a coworker and asked him what that thunder was, and he had no idea. I ran to our windows and saw everyone on the street either fleeing or standing looking up in amazement. Everyone stared in the direction of the Twin Towers, so we ran to the part of the building closest to the World Trade Center. All we could see was a huge cloud of smoke emerging from somewhere near one of the towers. Three other people ran over to the windows where we were watching and we all speculated as to what it could be. Fire? An explosion of some sort? An accident? Another officemate ran to our area. His hands shaking, he set down his coffee and gasped for breath. He said, "I saw the whole thing while I was getting coffee. This plane went straight into the tower. Right into the tower - and now there's just this huge hole. I can't even look at it," he said. "I feel so sick."

We turned on the radio and some reports said that there was an airplane that crashed into the tower. I was in disbelief. What kind of accident could this be? How could someone make such a grave mistake? "There's just a huge hole in the tower," my officemate kept repeating. A huge hole? In the middle? How could that be? He said that it was about two-thirds of the way up the tower.

We were listening to the radio at someone's desk and kept running to the windows to watch the mayhem below. People running every which way; fire engines speeding downtown; all sorts of cars with sirens blaring zipping around. It was sheer madness.

I heard another plane up above, and - before I knew it - I saw a huge explosion in the other tower. The fire, gloriously orange, mushroomed above. I pointed, "Oh my God... Look." The explosion was nothing I'd ever seen before - it was huge and too close to us. I moved away from the window so I could hear the radio better. At that moment, some debris or fire or something came toward the window where we were standing and shattered the window. A beam in the ceiling broke above us. All of six of us screamed. What do we do? At that instant, many of us ducked. One person, however, was unable to duck in time. Her leg was filled with splinters of glass. A couple of other people and I ran to the exit. We stayed low to the ground. But the others didn't follow. "Where's Carmen?" one person asked. She had been hurt by the blast, so someone went back to help her. We wheeled her out into the hallway on an office chair.

For a few moments, I think all of us were dumbfounded. Where do we go? What do we do? I called into the office corridors and screamed, "Is anyone here? Please! Let's get out of here!" One of our assistants came running, saying, "What's going on?"

We headed for the stairwell. Carmen, in the office chair unable to move, stayed while some others and I ran down nine flights of stairs. Once downstairs, I asked the doorman what was going on. He simply said, "I don't know." He said that the news reported a second plane crash in the other tower. I asked, "What should we do?" He simply said, "I don't know." I told him that someone needed help in the ninth floor stairwell. She was hurt and couldn't move. He radioed for EMT to respond.

I felt my heart pounding in my fingertips, in my skull, in my stomach, and in my knees. I was unstable. I was afraid to go outside. I went back to the stairwell because I felt safer there. I felt more protected there. But, I knew that I needed to get out of the area. It took me several moments to collect my thoughts and to gather strength to go outside. Walking up the street, away from the towers, I felt like the earth was still rumbling below me. I felt so weak, so sick, so scared, so frightened for my life.

A couple of officemates and I agreed we just needed to walk away - as far north and east as possible. Just a couple of blocks from our building, we saw many other officemates, who were just standing and watching. "What the hell are you all looking at and why the hell are you all just standing here? Aren't you scared?" I said. I looked behind me, and there they were - the two white Twin Towers, each with a huge black hole through itself. I couldn't believe my eyes. At the same time, I couldn't just stand there. I was afraid of all the buildings around me and all the windows around me that could just shatter at any moment, just as the window in front of my shattered in a split-second before I could even realize what happened.

I walked. I shook. I walked more. And I shook even more. After about ten minutes of walking, I needed to just sit. I sat on a bench near the Federal Court House and I looked back. Again, there they were, the two towers with the holes. I wanted to scream. I wanted to hide. I wanted to tap my toes and go back to Kansas. I wanted to say, "Could hit the pause button please? I have to go to the bathroom." This wasn't a movie, although it really felt like one.

I kept walking and walking. Along the walk, every pay phone I passed had a line of almost a dozen people waiting. I kept trying to use my cell phone to call David. I needed to talk to David. I needed to see David. I knew he would be worried. He knows how close I work to the WTC. All I could think about was getting to David and assuring him I was okay.

I walked until I could find a bus that was working. The last 20 blocks of my trip out of downtown Manhattan was on a bus. I was sweating and shaking as I sat. I fiddled with my cell phone, knowing I'd never be able to get through. Once I got to Bellevue Hospital, I was met by guards who held out their arms and said, "Sorry Ma'am, hospital's closed." I almost burst into tears right then and there. I needed to find David, for him to hold me and for me to feel secure with him. I told them I was looking for my husband and that I just walked up from the World Trade Center and that I needed to find my husband! All the guards repeated their response - the hospital is closed and no one may enter. I found a house phone and found no dial tone. I ran for another house phone and dialed David's extension. I almost cried when I heard his voice. He said he'd come right down.

When David and I embraced, after only an hour and a half of uncertainty and vulnerability, we felt momentarily safe. At the very least, we were alive and together. Only when I felt his arms around me did I allow myself to cry. My tears spoke of all my fear - fear for myself and how close I had been to destruction, fear for my friend who had been struck by glass and flames, fear for the others who must have been in the towers when the planes struck, fear for the lives of everyone who had to move on from this point.

David and I held hands as we walked most of the way back home to Astoria, Queens. We felt like we were characters in "Deep Impact", and all the other people walking were also characters in the movie. It was a mass exodus of walking people leaving the city. We were able to find a cargo van to drive us most of the way across the Queensborough Bridge. We started walking towards our neighborhood, and we called Randy at home when we finally found a payphone without a line. Randy came to pick us up.

Soon after we arrived home, my friend Ray dropped by, and I was happier than ever to see him. Later in the afternoon, we went to the train station to meet Zandra, Randy's girlfriend. I cried when I saw her. When I hugged her, I couldn't tell whether she or I was trembling more. Soon after, I saw another friend, freshly showered after been covered by dirt and soot of the towers' collapse. I was so happy to see everyone. It felt like years since we had all seen each other. I had a newfound appreciation for their presence.

I've been crying regularly since Tuesday morning. I cry in mourning for all those who are still missing. I cry for their families and loved ones. I cry when I see a family member on television trying to find his wife, sister, cousin, father, mother, son. I cry for myself and my family --- I feel so unsafe. I cry for my daughter because she is much too little to understand what is happening and she only knows that she gets less attention these days because we're all so engulfed by the news reports.

At the same time, I am thankful. I am thankful that I am alive and healthy. I am thankful that those dear to me are also alive and healthy. I am thankful that Philly is too young to be able to understand what is happening; I am thankful that David and I don't have the daunting task of trying to explain the unbelievable circumstances to her. I am thankful that the people of New York City are so strong and that networks of support are strewn all throughout the City in so many different ways. I am thankful that many of us have hope and courage and strength to move on.

On my way to church this morning, I saw a man walking in the opposite direction. He had just picked up his pictures from the one-hour photo shop. Too anxious to wait until he got home, he was flipping through the pictures as he walked. With each flip of a picture, he would laugh heartily and grin. Flip, flip, flip. Grin, smile, laugh. I watched him as he walked by, grinning, and I, too, smiled. In a time when words like "terrorism" and "war" have become commonplace in the evening news, it is good to know that there is still happiness to be found in this world. The healing will be difficult and will take time, but it is so reassuring to know that, with strength and prayers, we will all have happiness again.