Bridge Views: A Small Measure of Closure

People Monday were glued to the televisions, computers, Twitter feeding on any and every byte of news coming across the wires Monday. It was hard to unplug in order to sit down and file this column—fingers twitching to surf the news.

The death of Osama bin Laden means something to every American, but to us here in the tri-state area whose lives were indelibly affected by what happened at the World Trade Center, his death provides a small measure of closure. In every one of those calculated tragedies that took place on Sept. 11, we either knew someone who was affected, or knew someone who knew someone who was affected.

On that bright, cloudless morning of September 11, 2001, while holding a colicky newborn who was inexplicably comforted and lulled by the sonorous voice of Charles Gibson, co-anchor of Good Morning America, I watched in horror as I saw the first building burning and then witnessed a second plane smash through the other tower.  

Like everyone else, my mind raced to think of all the people I knew who worked at the Trade Center. My thoughts immediately turned to Mike DeGidio, a dear childhood friend. Mike was a fireman at Hook & Ladder Company 3 on Main St., and on September 11, 2001, he was serving as Chief of the Fort Lee Fire Department. That’s when the phone started ringing off the wall from other members of the fire department with calls about Mike.

It is an intrinsic response of emergency service workers to run towards danger when the rest of us are running away. It is unimaginable the response of these firefighters, these uniformed brothers from all four companies, but especially Company 3, knowing that not only one of their own, but the leader of their department, was inside one of those buildings now both engulfed in flames, his fate undetermined.

I can’t tell Mike’s story; that is his alone to tell. But I can tell my story, as I helplessly watched the buildings burning. Mike was a bridge between my past and my present. I knew him before I knew my husband, a fellow member of Hook & Ladder Company 3. In fact, it was Mike who suffered through some of my worst relationship choices and introduced me to my husband, and by doing so brought me into the family of the firehouse. He stayed my true friend through the worse possible times of my life and celebrated all that was good. We worked together, laughed together, and kept each other company on those dull Friday nights when we both had nothing to do and nowhere to go.

And now I had no idea if he was dead or alive. I remember standing in front of the television set watching those buildings burn and when they, collapsed so did my heart. I went outside to shed those images of destruction, knowing full well that none of us ever could, or ever should.

I remember walking outside deafened by the profound silence of the world. I remember walking to the entrance to the George Washington Bridge on Hudson Terrace startled, yet undeniably comforted that the walkway was flanked by soldiers with guns strapped across their shoulders. I remember thinking that the world that my daughter had just been born into was not a world that I was familiar with, but would have to find a way to live in.

Remarkably, Mike survived to tell his story. Unfortunately, many of the people he worked with did not. And so here we are, nearly 10 years later, witnesses to the death of the one person who orchestrated the events of that sad day. Although the actions of Osama bin Laden may have torn our hearts on 9/11 and the days that followed, I am comforted by the fact that he could not tear the fabric of strength and resilience that defines us all as proud Americans.