I left home about 8am ten years ago, ready to begin the long drive to our Orangeburg office. One of our employees there had been murdered by her boyfriend several days earlier, leaving a bewildered 3 year old son, an overwhelmed family and a host of grieving friends and co-workers. Her funeral was on 9/11 and I was on my way to her service. I was listening to Capt Herb voice the traffic conditions on 285 when the first news of the first airplane came on WSB. My first reaction, as it always still is when anything happens, was to call Bob. He was at work at Lockheed when I called and we initially talked about how it was probably a very errant small plane with a likely incapacitated pilot. Incredible and incomprehensible new information poured out over the next few hours and Bob and I spent those first hours talking together on the phone.
It was a tiny church packed with loved ones and co-workers, huge bouquets of flowers on the altar and even more carried in by mourners, and words and music that lifted the heart. With all the unspeakable turmoil that was happening at that very same time in three places northeast of us, all of us in that church were united in glorious song to honor one single life – but we were also fully aware of the other events, so our prayers were also in honor of all the other lives being lost that very day.
I tried to be strong, for her family, for myself, but began to feel the enormity of it all and tears fell as one glorious voice began this spiritual -
Precious Lord, take my hand, lead me on, let me stand
I'm tired, I am weak I am worn
Through the storm, through the night lead me on to the light
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home
When my way grows drear precious Lord linger near
When my life is almost gone
Hear my cry,hear my call, hold my hand lest I fall
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home
When the darkness appears and the night draws near
And the day is past and gone
At the river I stand, guide my feet, hold my hand
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home
About three hours after it had begun, the beautiful service ended with everyone standing, clapping and singing this joyful, hopeful gospel song together -
Oh, bye and bye bye and bye
Oh, when I reach that home beyond the sky
Far from the land of worry and pain sickness will never come again
And every day will be Sunday bye and bye.
Bye and bye, oh. bye and bye
Oh, when I reach that home byeond the sky
Livin' in sunshine of his love thinkin' of the wonder from above
And every day will be Sunday bye and bye.
When I reach that city, city so bright and fair
All of my friends and loved ones are gonna welcome me up there
I'm gonna sit down, put on my long white robe ,sit down beside my Lord
And every day will be Sunday bye and bye.
On Monday - I'm gonna tell a story
On Tuesday - 'bout those saints of glory
On Wednesday - take a walk in the Garden of Eden, I just want in on the land of freedom
On Thursday - be free from pain and misery
On Friday - gonna sit out and rest with the weary
On Saturday - gonna look up John and Job and Enoch, I got sins to prophecize
And every day will be Sunday bye and bye!
Oh, bye and bye bye and bye
Oh, when I reach that home beyond the sky
Far from the land of worry and pain sickness will never come again
And every day will be Sunday bye and bye.
All in all, I cannot think of sadder, happier, better, more powerful place to have been on 9/11/2001.
I write this as I’m watching the 9/11 tribute live from New York City. Paul Simon has just started singing The Sound of Silence. Beautiful, appropriate, haunting. Tears begin to fall again.
Bob and I had many years together, wonderful years with many conversations, and I can’t remember any of them anymore. But I do remember distinctly, very distinctly, talking with him, at this exact time ten years ago. And on this very sad day, that makes me happy.
May God bless all our loved ones, present and passed.
