Pieces Falling

As my FDNY family liaison, there were few things that Charlie insisted I do. But visiting the Family Assistance Center at Pier 94 was one of them. In fact, he was very persistent.

But I kept putting him off.

I didn’t feel like I needed assistance. I had a tremendous support system, and I didn’t want help that might be given to other people who had less support than I did.

I have my work.

I am not a victim.

My girls are not victims.

Bruce is not a victim. He died in the line of duty. He gave his life; no one took it.

I know why my husband died on September 11, 2001. He was a New York City Firefighter doing his job.

Charlie kept bringing it up, which confused me. What did I need to do at Pier 94 that I hadn’t already done?

Christine and I had already completed the missing person’s report one morning while the girls were at school.

Emily and I had already visited a local lab to have our cheeks swabbed for DNA.

Christine and I had even visited a lawyer friend of hers to do paperwork for the death certificate.

I couldn’t imagine what else needed to be done.

But Charlie didn’t give up.

At the end of October, Christine, Emily, and I planned a trip to Pier 94.

I would go.

But on my terms.

I didn’t want to go in a fire department vehicle or have a fire department escort because I knew that would get me special treatment.

We drove ourselves into Manhattan, parked near Pier 94, and walked over, joining the end of a line outside the building.

Within moments, someone greeted us and asked: “Why are you here today?”

I explained. “The FDNY suggested I come. My husband was one of the firefighters lost during the attacks.”

“Oh, follow me.” And we were promptly escorted to the front of the line.

That was exactly the kind of special treatment I hadn’t wanted.

“Thank you,” I said anyway.

The Family Assistance Center was set up like a convention center. It was open to anyone who needed help. There were booths representing the FDNY, NYPD, New York State Crimes Victim Board/Safe Horizons, Veterans Administration, American Red Cross, and the Salvation Army. Even the Buddhists had a booth.

Visitors were offered meals, childcare, medical and mental health services, and access to various government agencies and non-government organizations as well.

We started at the FDNY booth. From there we were directed to the New York State Crimes Victim Board/Safe Horizons booth.

After mentioning Bruce had been in the Navy, we were guided to the Veterans Administration to complete more paperwork. Thankfully, Charlie had given me a heads up about what kind of paperwork was needed for this visit to the Pier, so I had brought along what I would need.

As I finished up, the VA representative handed me a small cardboard box that contained an American flag. I thanked him. He directed me to the Disabled Veterans Booth.

We found that booth.

“Hi, I was told to come to see you to complete some paperwork,” I said.

“Please have a seat,” the woman replied.

“Thank you.”

“Did they just hand you that box?”

“Yes, at the Veterans Administration booth.”

“Oh, my. They didn’t fold that flag for you. I’m sorry. This should never happen. Let me get someone to fold it properly.”

I tried to reassure her it wasn’t necessary, but she got up and hurried away.

Christine, Emily, and I exchanged confused glances. Within moments she was back with two men.

“I got someone to fold it properly.” She said as she reached for the box, took the flag out and gave it to the two men.

Christine, Emily, and I watched in awe as the flag was folded in thirds, then in triangles until just the stars were showing.

They handed it back to me.

“Thank you.”

We were then directed to the Red Cross and Salvation Army booths. Most times we were completing forms or receiving information on services they could offer.

People kept mentioning that we should visit the Buddhist booth. I felt a little weird about that as I am a Christian. After some thought, we found our way there. A Buddhist gentleman in a long flowing robe sat in front of an open checkbook. He simply asked my name and wrote me a check for $1,000.

I was stunned and totally humbled.

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