I can’t believe that seven years ago today I was sitting in my house with eyes transfixed on my television set as the Twin Towers plummeted to the ground. While my husband was safe at his new job in Connecticut, he called home several times to check in, recounting which friends he may have known at the World Trade Center. He rattled off several names that I didn’t know and then he gasped.
“Oh my God. David.”
David was one of our closest friends in New Rochelle. We had met David and his wife Holli when we first moved to our neighborhood. We’d commute together on the bus and train and when Holli and I became pregnant at the same time, she was like the older sister I never had. She’d tell me exactly what was going to happen in my pregnancy three months in advance and even told me what labor felt like…and trust me, she was right on the nose.
When we realized that day that our friend may have been one of the victims of the 9/11 tragedy, I drove over to their home to offer Holli and her family support and a shoulder to cry on. With my connections in TV, I alerted my friends at the local news stations to post his picture, desperately clinging to the hope that somehow, some way, he survived.
But he didn’t.
Nine months pregnant with a three year old daughter, Holli became a widow. In that first year, I remember how hard it was for her to adjust. Having to give birth without David by her side, trying to focus on her newborn while explaining to her older daughter why her daddy was never coming home and going on with her life and a routine that was literally thrown into utter chaos.
I also remember learning a few weeks after David’s passing that I was pregnant with my second child and nine months later, it was Holli who was with me as I experienced labor pains and told my own husband not to worry and stay at work until I was ready to head over to the hospital. As I sat with Holli in a diner clutching the table between contractions, I will never forget that despite what she had been through in that past year, she was there for me the day my son was born. In fact, we named our son Dylan after David and so my friend has become Aunt Holli not by marriage, but through friendship.
With the support of family and her friends, Holli has managed to become one of the strongest and courageous women I know. She’s a great mom with an incredible sense of humor and this year, she confided she’s even ready to find love again. Strangely enough, this past week, she stopped by her favorite coffee shop to find a note advertising a group meet-up for singles. When Holli saw the address where the event was taking place (Holly Lane) she knew it was a sign from David. It’s time to move on.
Despite the fact that September 11 is one of the toughest days of the year for my friend, she has found the strength and resolve to not only make it through, but to realize that you can’t go through life stressing about everything you need to get done in a day. Enjoy each and every moment with your loved ones and don’t dwell on all the problems you may have in your life. While David may not be here with us today, I know that his spirit lives on in his daughters and in Holli’s heart. And I truly believe that if he could send a message to my friend it would be that he will always be watching over her but he wants her and the girls to find love again.
*In memory of David Silver – a wonderful father, brother, son and friend.
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