I wish to God that I could give Amanda Higley and her family what they truly want most for Christmas.
Amanda Nicole Higley is just four years old. Yet she, and many other children as well, are hearing, seeing, and feeling things that have brought an entire nation of full grown adults to its knees in tears. Something deep inside of me sickens at this, and I instinctively wanted to reach through my television screen and take her into my arms, sing to her, comfort her, just as I would my own little girl.
Amanda's father, Rob Higley, worked for AON, in the insurance business, on the 92nd floor of the World Trade Center. On September 11th, after the first plane hit, he called from the other building where his co-workers were evacuating, to tell his wife that he was okay and that he was getting out.
But then, said co-workers, Rob turned back, to make sure that the last conference room was cleared out.
Then the second plane hit.
Her mother, Vycki, was eight months pregnant in September. She and her husband Rob were sweethearts since they were teenagers; they married right after college. Vycki said in interviews that she counts herself lucky that she had 11 "solid years" of happiness with Rob, something a lot of people don't get.
I have read my share of inspiring stories about women overcoming adversity, but something about Vycki Higley struck a chord deep inside me. She is a truly remarkable woman.
I can't even explain the emotions that coursed through me as I read how Vycki Higley sat with thousands of other family members on folding chairs 20 rows deep and waited to fill out 12 page missing persons reports.
Or the way that I felt when I saw that she somehow gathered the courage to sing "Pie Jesu" at Rob's memorial service. Because, she said, "he loved her voice."
She donated one of her own kidneys just a few years ago to give her sister, Beth, a longer life as she struggled with kidney disease. Even that heroic gesture was not enough, though, and Beth died.
I'm writing this really about Amanda, and the other children in her situation, but I had to deviate long enough to say how blessed she is to have such an amazing woman as her mother.
Now, there was one specific moment in the television interview in which Amanda Higley crept into my heart, found a little nook and permanently set up residence.
The camera zoomed in on her little face, and she sang a song familiar to me, and millions of other parents of small children in this country.
"Bob the Builder!
Can we fix it?
Bob the Builder!
Yes we can!"
Connie Chung asked her then what she was going to be for Halloween.
"Bob the Builder!" Amanda responded brightly. Then she added the words that got to me:
"So I can fix Daddy's building."
Her mother says that she often 'has talks with Daddy' throughout the day. When she's swinging outside, when she's sitting quietly in her car seat. That she seems comforted by it.
The interview went on to show Vycki surrounded by friends and family, giving birth to her second daughter. One of Rob's cousins held his picture up for her, so she could focus on it. She chose to name her beautiful new baby "Robyn" as a tribute to the father she will only know through the memories of others.
Vycki and Robyn were photographed with 15 other WTC widows and their 16 new babies.
But as I watched the rest of the show, my hearing and vision sort of blurred, and I could only think of one person, little Amanda.
Later when I looked around and found other interviews, I found that Amanda had been afraid to go back to preschool for fear the 'other kids would laugh because she didn't have a daddy.'
Then there was the little boy who said his father wasn't home yet because "there weren't enough taxis." He was certain that as soon as there were, that his Daddy was coming home.
This is the saddest part to me about all that has happened in the wake of September 11th. That these thousands of children are now facing the totally unnecessary burden of a future without a parent. It never had to happen. Yet there are those who wickedly (and I use that word very sparingly in life) rejoice over the grief and damage that they've caused. It is truly unthinkable.
I wish that there was something I could do for Amanda, and her new sister, and her mother. Some way to let them know that their love for Rob has touched me, and that I wish that there was something, anything I could do to make the burden a little easier.
But I know that in reality, there is nothing. Nothing will take the place of her father holding her as she opens presents Christmas morning, reading her stories, teaching her about his beloved New York Yankees. Being there when she has her first school play. First date.
To walk her down the aisle.
I believe that the smallest beings in this world feel the most enormous grief, because they are so trusting. So patient. Time has no meaning to them, so they will wait, so much longer than adults, for Daddy to come home.
Maybe someday I'll write to Vycki Higley. I have to find the words first. I have to find a way to articulate how I will never forget her, or her family, especially Amanda. To tell her that love is being sent to them from far away, by total strangers, who cannot begin to fathom their loss. What can we say to them, except that we're sorry, and we won't ever forget?
This came to me late last night in fragmented, disconnected thoughts. It's words trying to explain emotion, which to me seems like trying to explain a sunset to a blind man. There just cannot be enough...
...enough. But it's all I can do. On the 99th day after September 11, this is what I was feeling.
"The 99th Day"
On the ninety-ninth day,
my heart shattered anew
When I heard your small voice,
and first looked at you
You're so little, and fragile
to this world still so new
no one should have to feel
the things that you do
"Can we fix it? Yes, we can!"
...an innocent child's song
"I'll fix Daddy's building." she bravely declares
trying to right such a horrible wrong
I know you believe you can do it
and maybe your generation will,
in the future so no other daughters
or sons will grieve terrorism still
When you talk to your father in heaven, Amanda,
ask him how in the world we'll go on?
ask him to send us faith and courage
and help for your Mom to be strong
Tell him that though I never met him,
I can see the good life that he led,
left in you, and your sister, and mother
reminding us all in the long years ahead
That our hearts are not jaded and frozen
as in early September we thought
Before forced to reach out to each other
to withstand the pain evil has brought.
I found that I wasn't so hardened,
no, not hardened or distant at all,
because on night 99 my heart shattered,
seeing such pain
in a pure soul, so small.
~L.P.
For more information on the family of Robert Higley, and other widows/babies of the WTC, visit these URL's
: http://www.usatoday.com/life/2001-12-20-babies.htm
: http://www.etonline.com/celebrity/a8158.htm
: http://www.courttv.com/assault_on_america/1005_wtcchild_ap.html
: http://www.acorn-online.com/obits/higley.htm
And give your kids an extra close hug and I love you, ever single day. Because you know that if Rob Higley and those others with him had made it out of the buildings, they sure as hell would.
~Essie