William E. Caswell

Our lives barely touched; I know your sister, your mother taught me art. Your
family is in my prayers.

Sharon, friend of family

Legacy Liberty Unites visitorFebruary 18, 2007

I used to think that planes were beautiful. It always seemed such an
amazing thing to fly - to soar above the world, in a way, free from the
reigns and problems of the earth. Now I can only see death when I look
at planes� I see pictures in my head of planes crashing through
buildings�I see videotapes from the morning of September 11th, when it
just seemed like a horrible dream or a sick joke by some young movie
director inspired by Orson Welles� �War of the worlds�. Little did I
know, when I first saw those images, that one of the planes had crashed
into my family as well; and we would never be the same again. It wasn�t
until my father�s phone call when he simply and almost, calmly said �I
think we�ve lost him� that I immediately let out a strange cry, but it
was unlike any cry I�d ever experienced. It was almost a gasp or a
scream, more intense than any cry before or since. It was obvious to me
then that a violence had been done� .to me. I wasn�t scraped or
bruised�.no broken bones, in fact, to look at me I looked normal�.except
for the puffy eyes and the sullen expression. But I was no longer normal,
I had some invisible appendage that I had lost and could no longer
function as before. I would see the media coverage of the rubble,
twisted steel and concrete which were once the twin towers, the pentagon
or the planes. What people can�t see are all the families of the victims
trying to put the broken and twisted pieces of their family back
together�but because they are so damaged and not all the pieces are
there�they just don�t fit together anymore. The families are splayed out
and crumpled just like the wreckage of the buildings and planes. And
that wreckage will take a lot longer to clean up.

Julia Caswell Daitch, sister

Legacy Liberty Unites visitorFebruary 18, 2007