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New Beginnings
Each of us, at some point in our lives, experiences something that forever changes us. It is the point that divides everything that has happened in the past from anything and everything that will happen in the future.
For me, my past seemed filled with opportunity, and I believed in that possibility because I had a strong person beside me to support my every decision. That person was Todd Hughes — my neighbor, my friend, and the true love of my life. He was the first person to tell me about AmeriCorps, and through the years of high school and college we planned to apply. We talked about being able to give other people around the country the help and support we had found in each other.
On April 10, 2000, my "past"ended and my world divided. On April 10, Todd lost his life in a car crash, and the world lost a person who wanted nothing but the best for everyone he encountered. Since the accident, I have struggled with anger, sadness, and disbelief about Todd and about life. It hurts me every day to no longer have Todd in my life the way he was before. What hurts me most, however, is to think about all the people who will never meet Todd, all the people whose lives he would have changed, and all the things he would have accomplished throughout his life if it had not been taken from him at the age of 21. The one solid answer I have from all of these questions is this: I live each day of my life for him, for the people he wanted to help, and for the many things he wanted to achieve for others. Todd dreamed of helping others through the AmeriCorps program. Although Todd can no longer realize this dream, I refuse to let it die.
In my life, this has been the turning point. Unfortunately, too many Americans cannot separate their disaster by personal or public lines. The disaster for so many people—too many people—that picked them up and threw them into a life they did not recognize, occurred on September 11, 2001. The entire country—the entire world—felt the crumbling shudders of this disaster, but it is the families and friends of the victims who distinguish this day as the before-and-after point in their lives. And suddenly, one year and eight months after Todd's death, I am sitting in an American Red Cross office, wearing my AmeriCorps*NCCC uniform, and I begin to understand so much more than I ever have before. I was given the opportunity with my AmeriCorps team to come to New York City and help the families directly affected by the WTC attacks. Todd led me to exactly where I was most needed. I sat in an ARC office and reviewed case after case of more than 3,000 victims. I learned about their lives, their stories, and their families. I read personal statements and journal entries, and I saw endless photographs of happier times. Each case reminded me of Todd, and therefore reminded me of why I was here. I began to know these wives, children, husbands, siblings and parents.
On the morning of September 11, one man kissed his wife goodbye in their half-painted kitchen that he'd been working on all weekend, promising to finish the project soon. That opportunity was taken away from him when he entered work at the WTC that morning. I imagined his wife, sitting alone among the paintbrushes and paint cans for weeks afterward, unable to afford someone to finish the job, and unable to move on or even stand up, until the Red Cross provided her with the assistance she needed. I cried. I read a Xeroxed journal entry of a 24-year-old woman in which she poured her dreams and ambitions onto the pages—goal after goal that she could never accomplish now that her life had been taken away from her, and I cried. I saw photo after photo of laughing fathers holding their innocent children, or wives and husbands on their wedding day, and I cried. We all cried as we worked, preparing these cases for other teammates who called these families to offer continuing financial, medical, and mental health support.
As tears rolled down my face onto this paperwork, I knew that this was much more than paperwork. When I visited Ground Zero with my team, holding their hands for support, I saw the recognition in their eyes as we read the names of so many victims on the memorial walls—names we now felt so attached to. AmeriCorps*NCCC had given each one of us the opportunity to step into a role that every American wished they could be in—directly helping the victims of 9/11 recover from the loss that was much more than a disaster or a line crossed. Each case we reviewed, each call we made, each 14-hour day that we willingly worked brought us closer together, brought the Red Cross closer to its goals and brought the victims a little bit of the relief that the American people could offer them.
I was taught that the giving of love is an education in itself. Love encompasses many feelings, thoughts, and actions. It includes the way Todd and I felt for each other, The giving of love also includes the many things that AmeriCorps programs are accomplishing all over the country. I feel thankful, with all of my heart, to be a part of that action. My experience with AmeriCorps*NCCC, with the American Red Cross in New York City, and with my NCCC teammates taught me that each day is a new beginning, and with each new beginning is a chance to make this world a safer and happier place. |
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