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Dear God, but I had such trouble getting out of bed today! Such grim memories of 11 years ago!
I woke up late this morning and immediately recalled that on this day, 11 years ago, almost to the hour, "IT" happened... that Mr Witchy had gone into the City to a breakfast business meeting at Windows on the World at the top of the World Trade Center. He was late because he wanted... you know... so he missed his train. (2 blocks down at the end of my street is the train station) So he was running half an hour late.
I had gone into Newark to get my microbraids from Mandeville taken out. IT happened. We saw IT, standing out on the street. The Newark police were clearing the streets, telling us that they were going to evacuate Newark soon. (That never happened.) Evacuate Newark, NJ?! OMG!!
I drove back home to Orange... I tried to reach Mr Witchy on his cell phone. No luck. All day long, I could not reach him, and he did not call me. OMG! As the day wore on, things looked grimmer and grimmer... if Mr Witchy was alive, wouldn't he have called me to let me know??? He must be..... NO!! People started to come by to visit me at my house... it was almost like sitting shiva (Jewish wake) already! Friends, neighbors, my priest - everyone told me that maybe he was just in the hospital - not dead. OMG! Dusk came.
I slowly drove my Land Cruiser down Central Avenue to pick up something to eat... I think it was burger and fries and a banana shake from Checkers. On my way back home, a police car behind me hit his siren and lights. Whoop-whoop. Why, I wondered, was the cop stopping me? I hadn't done anything wrong!
The cop walked up the side of my truck and said... I'll NEVER forget these words... <span style="font-weight: bold">"Ma'am... do you know that man with a full black beard back there - a block back? Each time you stopped at a red light, he kept trying to reach your truck, and he kept yelling out to you. Is your name Witchy? He doesn't look too good - maybe he was in New York today, he's covered in white ash and he's filthy dirty, and he looks like he's gonna drop dead on the sidewalk! Do you know him?"</span>
It was Mr Witchy! He'd gotten a ride back over the Hudson in the back of a pick-up truck with 7 or 8 other men, and was dropped off in Newark. he had walked all the way down Central Avenue, through Newark, through East Orange, and was almost to the Orange city borderline. he had been chasing my truck for half a mile, but I hadn't noticed him, in my upset fog! The cop, of courses, had noticed... and stopped me. Poor Mr Witchy had walked <span style="font-weight: bold">miles</span> to get home! So the cop turned on his lights and pulled a U-ie (a U-turn) and went back and picked my husband up, and brought him to me, and helped poor, over-exhausted Mr Witchy into my truck, and I - overjoyed - took my husband home. I needed help getting him into the house, but there were still people in my house, and they helped me out.
We put Mr Witchy into the bath tub to soak. An hour later, we heard his tale. After that, he ate and fell asleep while still chewing some food.
This morning, I woke to remember those terrible hours when I wondered if I was a widow... when I began to doubt myself, thought that maybe I would <span style="font-style: italic">NOT</span> necessarily 'know' if he were dead... and finally, when I began to believe that I was, indeed, all alone and widowed.
Still, right now, I'm at work... but I'm truly sick to my stomach.
Don't get me wrong: I give most heartfelt thanks to God that I still have my husband!
But it's rough for me today... really rough! Sickening memories flood my mind.
I woke up late this morning and immediately recalled that on this day, 11 years ago, almost to the hour, "IT" happened... that Mr Witchy had gone into the City to a breakfast business meeting at Windows on the World at the top of the World Trade Center. He was late because he wanted... you know... so he missed his train. (2 blocks down at the end of my street is the train station) So he was running half an hour late.
I had gone into Newark to get my microbraids from Mandeville taken out. IT happened. We saw IT, standing out on the street. The Newark police were clearing the streets, telling us that they were going to evacuate Newark soon. (That never happened.) Evacuate Newark, NJ?! OMG!!
I drove back home to Orange... I tried to reach Mr Witchy on his cell phone. No luck. All day long, I could not reach him, and he did not call me. OMG! As the day wore on, things looked grimmer and grimmer... if Mr Witchy was alive, wouldn't he have called me to let me know??? He must be..... NO!! People started to come by to visit me at my house... it was almost like sitting shiva (Jewish wake) already! Friends, neighbors, my priest - everyone told me that maybe he was just in the hospital - not dead. OMG! Dusk came.
I slowly drove my Land Cruiser down Central Avenue to pick up something to eat... I think it was burger and fries and a banana shake from Checkers. On my way back home, a police car behind me hit his siren and lights. Whoop-whoop. Why, I wondered, was the cop stopping me? I hadn't done anything wrong!
The cop walked up the side of my truck and said... I'll NEVER forget these words... <span style="font-weight: bold">"Ma'am... do you know that man with a full black beard back there - a block back? Each time you stopped at a red light, he kept trying to reach your truck, and he kept yelling out to you. Is your name Witchy? He doesn't look too good - maybe he was in New York today, he's covered in white ash and he's filthy dirty, and he looks like he's gonna drop dead on the sidewalk! Do you know him?"</span>
It was Mr Witchy! He'd gotten a ride back over the Hudson in the back of a pick-up truck with 7 or 8 other men, and was dropped off in Newark. he had walked all the way down Central Avenue, through Newark, through East Orange, and was almost to the Orange city borderline. he had been chasing my truck for half a mile, but I hadn't noticed him, in my upset fog! The cop, of courses, had noticed... and stopped me. Poor Mr Witchy had walked <span style="font-weight: bold">miles</span> to get home! So the cop turned on his lights and pulled a U-ie (a U-turn) and went back and picked my husband up, and brought him to me, and helped poor, over-exhausted Mr Witchy into my truck, and I - overjoyed - took my husband home. I needed help getting him into the house, but there were still people in my house, and they helped me out.
We put Mr Witchy into the bath tub to soak. An hour later, we heard his tale. After that, he ate and fell asleep while still chewing some food.
This morning, I woke to remember those terrible hours when I wondered if I was a widow... when I began to doubt myself, thought that maybe I would <span style="font-style: italic">NOT</span> necessarily 'know' if he were dead... and finally, when I began to believe that I was, indeed, all alone and widowed.
Still, right now, I'm at work... but I'm truly sick to my stomach.
Don't get me wrong: I give most heartfelt thanks to God that I still have my husband!
But it's rough for me today... really rough! Sickening memories flood my mind.
when I voice my thoughts on what I really think happened.
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