Who Could Ever Imagine Why?

My father passed on Sept 1, 2001, and I won’t lie and say that a part of me wasn’t ready but the little girl who just lost her lifetime hero still wanted to understand why. Another part of my sadness was because of my son who would turn 11 in less than two weeks. He had lost one grandpa just before Christmas in 2000, and now his other grandpa and best buddy had passed just before his birthday. But in a few short weeks, I would have my answer.

Had my father still been alive on September 11, that day certainly would have killed him. He was only 17 when he lied about his age to join his only brother when he enlisted in the army at the beginning of World War II. Dad found himself in the last unit of the mounted cavalry, where he wound up with some scars far worse than the ones inflicted on his body by an enemy grenade. But even worse than that was the loss of his only brother, his first comrade in arms. Their mother had abandoned the two boys when they were very young. She left them with their grandmother where they fell in at the end of the line behind many aunts and uncles who were still living at home. They had a lot of love but not much else to call their own. They were brothers and best friends throughout their childhood.

Dad returned home wounded and what was at the time a sizable debt, as he had to pay for his brother’s final expenses. His only other option at the time was to sign a document called a paupers note. If he signed it, the army would pay for the burial, but his only sibling would forever be labeled a destitute. There was no way that my father would allow that to be his last act for his brother Wally. Instead, Dad took any job that he could find to repay the debt. That was just the kind of young man my father was, and that was the way that he lived his entire life.

So for Dad to witness and an attack on American soil would have certainly have been fatal in his frail condition. Like every American, I never imagined that the events of 9/11 could happen in my lifetime, or ever for that matter. But I was very blessed to have been spared the added anguish of losing any family members or friends that day. Instead, my first thoughts that morning were how thankful I was that my father was gone and he did not have to witness this terrible event.

In the few months leading up to his death, there were moments when I had wished for his struggle to be over. And, to be quite honest, I had some very selfish motivation at times. I never wanted to hear the phone ring again in the middle of the night with bad news or the latest update on how the cancer was slowly consuming this man who had always been my protector. He was far stronger than I, and I was afraid that my strength was all but gone. I didn’t want to let him down. But never in those moments did I ever want to let go of him, I just wanted the cancer to be gone.

But on 9/11, just 10 days after I watched him take his last breath and felt his grip slowly loosen on my hand, I was glad that he was gone. He had lived through the depression and a world war, and he understood those hardships. And because of that intimate knowledge, he worked his entire life to provide for his family and make sure that we never knew the feeling of going hungry or not having a warm place to sleep. I never wanted to look in his eyes and see the fear that would consume him just at the thought of us living through such times. He would not have worried for himself or his well-being, he would have thought only of his children and his grandchildren. And he would have felt inconsolable guilt for not being able to protect us from what was happening to our country. Even though he was an old, sick man in his 80’s, he would have felt responsible.

So I learned very quickly why his time came on September 1, 2001. It was merciful, and it was peaceful. He was in his own home and he had visited with each child, each grandchild and his wife of 49 years. He made his peace with leaving us behind and continuing on his journey, knowing that we were also at peace with letting him go. He did not worry or feel any remorse for leaving us, as he would have had he lived just two short weeks longer. September 11 change the world for everyone, and I am thankful that it didn’t change his world. He was laid to rest in a world that he understood. And though I am famous for asking why, when it really is not my place, this time I know why. I was not quite ready to say goodbye on September 1, 2001, but he had completed his journey. He was not meant to see this next chapter in our history, one that would force him to relive painful events, from his early life as a soldier. I now found a sense of benevolence in his passing, and an understanding of seeing the good in every single event in life.