i turned on the tv that morning, not something i usually did, because we had been at the broncos game the night before and ed mccaffrey had suffered a horrific career ending broken leg right in front of us. i knew they would replay it on the sports that morning, not something they did in the stadium. but instead of that, i saw a shocking image of a plane fly into the world trade center in new york.
as soon as the news broke that it was an american airlines plane from logan in boston i began frantically trying to reach my brother, a pilot for american who flew that same route out of boston. unable to get through i finally heard from my mom that she had talked to him briefly and he was not flying that day. i knew my relief was some one else's sorrow.
that sorrow built throughout the day as i watched the wtc be struck again and then collapse to the ground, the pentagon be attacked and another plane crashing (averting more deaths through their brave sacrifice) in a pennsylvania pasture. it is still so shocking to remember. so many lives were broken that day, pain that echos still 8 years later. but there were also stories of miracles and heroism that became mixed in with the unbearable tragedy, little places of light in the darkness.
david and i sat at a table overlooking manhattan at the windows on the world restaurant in the world trade center on march 11, 1986 as he asked me to marry him. it was a magical moment of tremendous joy for me and a memory of a place i will always treasure. we love new york. and were heartbroken by the events of 9/11.
today i grieve for the tremendous losses and celebrate too that those little places of light have grown brighter.