It is with near certainty that each of us can think back to that single date in history and remember exactly where we were, who we were with, and what we were doing when the towers fell. For we baby boomers, it really was our Pearl Harbor.

Not one September 11 goes by that I don’t reflect on where I was that fateful day. I was headed to work at about 8:05AM when I heard the first report that a plane had hit one of the towers. At first I thought, “Ah, it’s just some rookie pilot who carelessly decided to take his Cessna a bit too close for a look at the Twin Towers.” Then came the report that a second plane had just hit the second tower.

As I arrived at work, I turned on my computer and jumped onto the Internet. I saw on Yahoo’s portal page the latest news. I, like millions of other Americans that day, had to accept the fact that we were under attack. From whom? It didn’t matter.

My mind raced...”How could this be?” The news feed was abuzz with the news of the second plane, then a third. “My God, they just hit the Pentagon.”

Soon to follow, there was a rumor of another plane out of communication with air traffic controllers in remote Pennsylvania airspace. The reporters began to speculate that the final plane might be headed back to Washington, DC with the Capitol Building or White House as a potential target.

Just as those words came out, I thought to myself “God, where is Monica?”

Like everyone else that day, I wanted to know exactly where my loved ones were. After a brief moment of panic, I recalled from our early morning kiss goodbye that she was headed to downtown DC for a sales call. I was horrified to think that she could be in the path for that final plane. I called her numerous times on her cell phone to no avail. All of lines were clogged.

After about 20 minutes, I finally got a hold of her. “Where are you?” I screamed.

Over the commotion of traffic and noise of the other folks in the car talking on their cell phones, she said, “I’m in front of the White House. They have guns on the roof.”

She barely finished that statement when I shouted, “You have got to get out of there, NOW!”

With a frantic reply, she said, “We’re trying, but the traffic is at a dead stop.”

Just as the phone line dropped, I told her, “Do what you can...I love you.” There was no reply.

About an hour later, she called me at my office. She had made it out of DC as was headed back to her office in Chantilly. “Honey, I’m OK. I need to call Dr. W to see if I still have chemo today.”

Our personal story became even more surreal. Monica had scheduled her final Adriamycin/Cytoxan (AC) treatment [her first round of chemo post-surgery] for 2PM that afternoon.

For Monica, this day was supposed to be a day of celebration. She had reached her first major milestone and all that she wanted was for everyone in the treatment clinic to join her in her celebration. She even baked a cake for the nurses and purchased balloons to mark the day.

I remember sitting in her treatment room watching the events of the day unfold on the TV as the last drops of chemo exited the bag and entered her body.

Sadly and understandably, there was no celebration. The balloons hung nearly motionless in the treatment room and the cake remained uncut. There would be no happiness in that room that day…nor for the country.

Looking back today, I remember thinking to myself (and trying not to downplay the cowardly and senseless loss of 3000 other American lives), “Now perhaps people will see things as we do that a good life is not guaranteed. It can all be taken away from you in an instant.”

I will never forget that day. You shouldn’t either.

Taking that First Step

I am learning that in order to put that next step forward – which I am now beginning to do – I need to face the day, deal with the pain, thank God that I am here to see it through, and look to the next day. It’s what I call the first-[you name the event]-without-Monica milestone. Don’t look for it in any grieving book, you won't find it. This is my own psychobabble term for coping with and getting past each important day.

My birthday was the first such day since our return to the beach in July - which looking back - was the first-trip to the beach-without-Monica. Follow me? Next was Tuesday the fourth. The kid's first day of school. Monica's second most memorable statement to me a week before she passed was "I'll never see my kids graduate from high school." As each respective bus pulled away that morning, my eyes filled with tears. I can only hope that she saw them from above.

After taking a good browbeating from Sage, my terrestrial angel from Life with Cancer (LwC TA) on the morning of the 30th, I began to recognize these days as opportunities to heal and days to step forward instead of days to avoid and days to stagnate in regret and self-pity. The thing that I know now is that things will get easier over time, but they still have to be dealt with accordingly. There is no escape. There is only a new strategy that must be employed.

As if my LwC TA had issued a press release to my “support network,” key people in my life started to echo those sentiments back to me ad nauseum.

At about 1:30PM, Monica’s mom slammed me with the very same request. She said, “Dale, you need to let go and move forward. You have to.” I hate it when she’s right.

Then to cement the deal later that evening, a certain neighbor lady of mine (OK, one of my terrestrial angels from the ‘hood), piled on to tell me that she and a few other of her demon pals were basically going to have a happy hour for me whether I liked it or not.

At that point I realized that resistance was futile. It was perhaps the most empowering days of the summer.

I spent Friday night enjoying hot steamed crabs, cold beer and greetings from friends from all over. OK, things did degrade to a friendly fire-side argument about global warming later in the evening, but it was all in fun. Right, Michelle?!?!

The point was driven home by everyone in my community that evening. Even though they might not have realized, my vast support group played a very important role in giving me the kick necessary to put that first foot forward.

Friends, even though I have a new attitude about life’s milestones, it doesn’t take the emotional sting of the event away totally. Those first-[you name the event]-without-Monica will always be difficult (and there are many more to come), but when the sun sets on that event, there will never be another first of that event. Yes, there will be a second, even a fifth or perhaps even a 20th, but there will never again be a first-[you name the event]-without-Monica once the original one has passed. The pain that will always be associated with each key event will never go away, but I feel that the intensity of the hurt will lessen over time.

OK, so what about our 20th? The God-honest truth is that our day is guaranteed to be a smattering of emotions. It’s hard to predict at this writing, but I fully expect to crash hard then reflect on what was good in life. She gave me so much. She made me who I am today. She gave me two incredible sons, and she lives in me every day. Her love shines down on me from above. And from the little messages that I still receive to the reminders of her brief existence on this planet, she will always be there. She will always be a part of me. Now that is something worth celebrating.

Just What is a Penny Worth These Days – Revisited
(original article posted 08/15/07)

On Friday September 7, I received a letter in the real mail from a wonderful Delaware, Ohio couple, Laura and Jim Frisch, whom Monica and I met on our 2006 Avon walk. In the envelope, along with a very nice handwritten note from Laura (image that!?!?! God, I haven’t written OR received a REAL letter in years!) was a penny that she found while doing her laundry.

I have to admit that I broke down upon reading her note and holding that penny in my hand made me smile through my tears. Laura, if you’re reading this now, know that your penny was one of the finest gifts I have ever received from anyone. I look at it as you giving a piece of her back to me after she touched your heart. I have added that penny to Monica’s wine glass.

Hmmmmm, I think that I have just created another fun project for the readership of this site.

Send me a penny that you have found [required] with a short handwritten note as to where you found it, and on June 26, 2008, I will write a check to the Avon Foundation in the amount of the collected pennies - in Monica’s name. If you're all cool with it, I will post a summary of your story here.

If you’re up for this project, send me your penny and your note to:

PFH (Pennies from Heaven)
c/o Monica Cooper
3009 Cross Creek Ct.
Oak Hill, VA 20171

What's New?

As of Tuesday September 11, Dad is still in hospice care for complications to his pancreatic cancer. He is stable right now, but very weak. He cherishes his daily visits from members of his church and former work pals. Mom is holding up all things considered. As with what we went though back in June, what choice does she have? What choice do we all have? It’s life and it’s all good.