September 11 marks the 20th anniversary of the World Trade Center attacks. I recently had the opportunity to speak with Lisa Luckett, a woman who lost her husband, Ted, on that day leaving her a single mother of three. Ted’s company, Cantor Fitzgerald, occupied offices in the North Tower on the 104th and 105th floors of the 107-story building.
In her book, The Light in 911: Shocked by Kindness, Healed by Love, Lisa chronicles how she survived the unimaginable and learned to face any experience head on, choosing to see the silver lining in every situation.
Lisa shared with me some of what happened that day and what she learned from that time.
On learning about the attack:
My daughter, Jennifer, hadn’t been feeling well so I drove her to school a little late that morning. She had just started second grade in our comfortable, suburban town of Fair Haven, NJ. As I walked in the house, the phone was ringing. When I answered, a friend said, “Lisa, which tower is Ted in?” I replied, “The one with the antennae on it.” She told me to turn on the TV because a plane just hit it and took off the top 15 floors. That was the first of many incorrect pieces of information of my 9/11 experience.
“My heart and soul opened that morning and have remained open ever since.”
On realizing the magnitude:
I was holding my four-month-old son, Timmy, against my shoulder and had my four-year-old Billy’s hand in mine. We turned on the television that was still set to PBS Channel 13 because of the children’s programming. I knew that WNET-TV Channel 13’s antenna was on the North Tower. When the picture came into view, I saw the black, black smoke billowing and streaming from Ted’s building. I know I started to scream, “Ted! Ted! Ted!” Billy says I was stomping my feet, too. I don’t remember that. As we watched, we saw the second plane hit the South Tower and I knew we were in trouble.
On the prior attack:
Ted had walked out from the explosion in January, 1993, after a four and one half hour slow march down the fire escape and out of the building. When he arrived home he was completely black from soot. In that attack, there had been no visible smoke outside any of the buildings. This time it was much different. When I saw the smoke I knew it was fatal. For a short time, I held on to the fantasy of him climbing to the roof. When Cantor Fitzgerald re-opened its doors in the Spring of 1993, and people went back to the 104th and 105th floors, the guys would joke about keeping parachutes and/or gas masks in their desks. They all agreed that they would go to the roof if it happened again.
On the North Tower collapse:
My closest girlfriends were in my room with me. Sitting on the foot of my bed we all watched as the North Tower fell silently and in slow motion. I whispered, “Goodbye, Teddy.” And he was gone.
On the gift of 9/11:
As I looked at all the friends, family, and neighbors milling around my house not knowing what to do, all I wanted to do was help them. In the most bizarre way I was fine, actually quite normal. The numbness from the shock cocooned me and I was completely functional. Everyone was so desperate to help me and there was nothing they could do. I could see and feel their pain. I witnessed their confusion, fear and horror from the realization that we were no longer safe in our country. The profound shock and sadness about Teddy and all the others was too much to bear. Our future was precarious and like everyone else, all I wanted to do was help someone. Then it dawned on me like a big “Aha”. In order to help them, I had to actually let them help me! By learning to receive, I discovered humility and gratitude for the first time. It is because of this that my heart and soul opened that morning and have remained open ever since.