Rosie's blog: "My Daughter in law`s Story of 9/11"

I don't always bring up today. I used to avoid it. Partly because I was so thankful, and at the same time, ashamed that I thought "it wasn't my loved one." But today I will, because I can never forget.

My mother and my uncle Larry Rose, both worked at the Pentagon. I remember the night before staying at my aunt and uncle's house for movies and games. Then I went to sleep in the guest bedroom. I never had to worry about going back home because mom had to work and I didn't. So I just stayed where I was. Early in the morning the phone wouldn't stop ringing. At first it took multiple times for it to penetrate through my sleep. Then I ignored it to try to go back to sleep. But then finally...someone said something other than "call me back." They said "I watched the news. Please tell me you're still alive." That jolted me. I ran to the phone and picked it up. It was one of their sons. He told me to turn on the television. That's when I saw them repeating the news of the twin towers and ultimately, the Pentagon. It hit...my family was at work. My mom was there! My uncle! I just told them good night several hours ago!

I prayed hard for them to be alive. I called their lines, sometimes not getting through because the air waves were so compacted with everyone across the nation trying to reach those they knew. The few times I did get through...no answer. Ruth comes home and we wait. Together. Alone. No news, no phone calls. Hours went by. No one knew where they were. Finally Larry comes home smelling of sweat and smoke. He and many people made it out barely. The fire doors were closing in on them and it took 30 or so of them to push it backwards before it sealed them in with the fire. They broke the hinges and escaped. But where was my mother?

I began to lose hope, she hadn't called or anything. I thought it was because she died. I lost my best friend. How would I cope? How would I survive? I still clung to her, learning how to use my fragile wings. I was only 18!

That evening around 5 or 6 she walked into the door. Haggard and afraid. I clung to her crying and thanking God. I didn't lose her. I was one of the lucky ones. I never felt shame in being so relieved at being able to say "at least it wasn't me" until the day after. How could I be so cold in my heart to selfishly think of myself and not others? But how could I not at the same time? It's one of those situations in life that you are greatful for what you have, knowing full well that you could have been one of those on the other side of the fence...never seeing that loved one walk through the doors to wrap their arms around you and make your world feel safe again. For some, that security was taken.

So I can never forget. Ever. May God stay with those who need Him dearly to this day.