9/11…Today is the day my mother died. I am the daughter of a single mother and a single mother myself. My mother died going to work early on the 99th floor of 1 WTC to learn PowerPoint… a skill I refuse to master. Call it petty, but it’s deeply ingrained in my psyche. Walk in my Louboutins and then talk if you feel the need.
The hardest part of today was deciding not to take my 12 year old son to the memorial services in NYC. I realized,after much wine, that I wasn’t ready to put another human through that pain. I put on a good game face most years, and hope to put one on again today, yet with our politically charged environment, may not be fully possible.
I lost everything when I lost my mom. When I say everything, I lost all facets of family I thought I had. “Aunts and uncles”, “family friends” etc who thought I wasn’t grieving properly or who I didn’t contact because I didn’t know how to say I needed someone, or didn’t want to be alone for whatever the next holiday. I live my life with my son wanting to give him something better and failing as compared to my mom, but realizing that at least I am giving him a truth. A truth that was lost to me. I needed to be loved, even if I buried my pain in donations and dollars and the future, those were easy things to distract me from the pain. Today I mourn the loss of a friend back to a country that has become her home more than the US, and that I was too selfish to take my advantages to spend time with her when I could.
This is not my best post but it is my story of what it means to be a survivor 17 years later and may well evolve over the next few days.