9/11: A story about a girl who lost her father on that tragic day

Hi everyone, I felt the need to write something on this tragic day, where 10 years ago, close to 3,000 people lost their lives, and many others lost their loved ones. This is dedicated to the victims of 9/11.

 I sat there watching my mother cry. I held her hand in mine and told her everything was okay. I'm not sure if I was trying to convince her or myself when I said that. We watched the specials on the terrible tragedy of 9/11. My father had been one of the victims.

 I remember the night before he left, he tucked me in and gave me a goodnight kiss. He told me he loved me and that he would be back soon. We had woken up really early in the morning, I was still asleep, but my father carried me and sat me in my car seat. We drove to the airport and we said our goodbyes. I didn't know that would be his last one. I remember waking up at about 9:20am to my mother's cries. I was just three at the moment. She had the phone on her hand and kept sobbing. I was confused. I didn't understand what could make her cry so much. I went up to her and hugged her. She hugged me back and continued sobbing. She told me my father wouldn't be able to come back home. I remember asking why, but she just cried even more.

 That had been 10 years ago. Now, I was 13 years old and I am aware of what happened to my father. He was on flight 77, one of the planes that had been hijacked, the one that crashed into the Pentagon. No one in the plane survived. I still remember my father's last words, the ones he had left in a voice mail that morning. 

 "Hey Janie, it's Scott, I wanted to tell you that the plane I'm on has been hijacked and I don't think I will survive. Just remember I love you and move on without me. Take care of Lilly and be there for her. As for Lilly, I love you so much, and you won't understand what's happening right now, but when you do, I want you to know I loved you since the day you were born. Be strong baby girl, take care of mommy and take care of yourself. I love you."

 I had learned to be strong, since I no longer had a father to protect me and my mother was broken. I was independent. I knew how to take care of myself. I seemed strong to other people, and I was, but remembering my father broke me down. Right now, I was being strong for both my mother and I, making sure she was okay. I knew though, that tonight in bed, I would be crying myself to sleep. I only had few memories about my father, given that he died when I was just three years old. For this ten year anniversary, we had been planning on visiting the Pentagon Memorial in the evening. It would take less than an hour to get there, so we planned leaving the house in just a few minutes.

 "Are you ready?" I asked my mother, still sobbing quietly. She nodded and we went outside to the car. I slid into the passengers seat and leaned my head against the glass. It didn't take a lot, and soon, we had arrived. I took a deep breath and opened the car door. I went to where my mother was standing and took her hand. I felt her give me a reassuring squeeze. We walked along the long bench to the side of the Pentagon. We walked until we reached the place on the bench that was labeled 1981. We then walked down the line of benches until we found the one with my father's name on it. I ran my fingers over my father's name, which was engraved on the side of the bench. I was mesmerized by the water underneath the bench. It made things serene. There were lights underneath the water, a green color, which made the entire sight of the Memorial beautiful. I felt surprisingly calm, a warm feeling in my chest and a small smile forming on my mouth. My vision began to blur and as I tried to say something, I found my throat was choked up. I took in a breath and slowly let it out, a single tear running down my cheek.

 "Beautiful, isn't it?" I heard my mother say and turn toward her. I simply nodded and hugged her, feeling grateful I still had her. We stood there just embracing each other, and finally we went back to the car, towards home. Once we got there, I said goodnight to my mother and headed upstairs towards my room. I didn't bother to change into my pajamas, I just got under the covers and started thinking about my dad. I missed him so much. Growing up without a father had been hard on me, but I managed to pull through.

 I remember father's day at school, when I was seven years old. Everyone was so excited for people to meet their fathers and I remember standing there with my mom, who was trying hard not to cry. Other kids kept asking me when my daddy was going to get there and I simply told them he was on a trip and I would see him soon. I was still too small to understand that my dad was gone forever. Remembering all the other kids with their dads brings me to tears. I put my face in the pillow and sob into it. I feel my head pounding, as if it were going to explode. I cry harder into the pillow and put my hands around my head. I pull away from the pillow and take a breath. I feel the tears coming out of my eyes like rivers. I keep crying until there are no tears to come anymore. I curl up in a ball and pull the covers over my head, my eyes feeling heavy from the crying. I bite my bottom lip to stop it from quivering. I close my eyes and drift off to a dreamless sleep.