9/11 Letter

Unedited- Creative Writing:

Untitled

Dear Susana,

I can't imagine the amount of emotions that are flooding through you right now, since you read the return address. Let me tell you, it is really me, and this is not a joke. I felt after eight years, I owe you an apology and an explanation.
First, let me express my love for you. We were together for ten years, and we had a beautiful little girl. Please believe me when I say that I love you and our little Jane, and I miss you both. The last three years before my disappearance, or assumed death, you and I both could tell life was beginning to get a little rocky. Our marriage was suffering due to Jane's autism, and because our financial issues. I am sure the financial issues have not subsided, especially after the Towers fell. But I am hoping that Jane's autism has become more reasonable and bearable since then.
Let me just tell you straight forward what happened. In the early summer of 2001, I began to think long and hard about my life; about you and our daughter, my job and our life in Queens. Honestly, it was becoming too much, and I felt weak as a man. My career was beginning to be very stressful, and the office life was too mundane for me. Jane's autism was also starting to be too much to handle. I don't know how you were able to stay so calm and patient between her fits and her tedious life styles. The first few years after her diagnosis, I was beginning to wear thin- much too thin to handle. I am an awful father for thinking this way; a father is supposed to care and love their child, and support his family in every which way. But Suzie, I couldn't. I just couldn't any longer. So, in August of 2001, I tried talking to you about our life, how we could change it. That maybe I should have looked for a new job, something more creative; perhaps me going back to school and to continue my passion in the arts. You ignored my wants, and focused on our financial basis, and Jane's priorities. I suggested a helper around the house to help us maintain Jane's illness, but you were too stubborn and too proud to ask for anyone's help, that we could do this ourselves. Well, Suzie, I couldn't. I couldn't handle it anymore. I couldn't handle my job, I despised it. Sitting at that desk day after day, pushing pencils 10 hours a day. I couldn't handle Jane's illness; I couldn't handle you ignoring my wants and needs any longer. As much as I love you both, I had to do this for myself.
On September 11th, 2001, I headed to work early. I gave you and little Jane a kiss goodbye, and to you both it may have seemed like it was our everyday routine, but this day was different. I took the train and transferred to the PATH. From there I headed to New Jersey, and I arrived in Newark. There I saw the news, and I saw the towers burning. Susana, I can't tell you what I was feeling while watching that news station. Horror, luck, guilt, and happiness. Horror because it was an attack on America, and it was completely horrific and awful that so many people lost their lives; many of those people I knew, people I worked with for years and years. I was so lucky to not have gone to work that day, or else I would have been in that building when the planes hit. It was very likely I would have not lived.
I felt guilty for the same reason I felt happy. I felt these both because it was my time to escape. To escape the life I was unhappily living, the life I did not want. That was my chance to run, I knew you and the rest of my friends and family would have presumed me to be dead. There are still hundreds and thousands of missing people from that day, many of their remains have not been found; and I know you are one of those people who could not find your love's remains. I don't know which would have been harder for you; knowing your husband left you and the family and his burdens, or thinking your husband died due to a terrorist attack on America.

Let me tell you Susana, though, I am very happy. I have not found love like the love you and I once had, but I live in California now, and I am very happy. I am going to UCLA, and I am majoring in Fine Arts, I'm painting again. A passion of mine I had buried years ago. I have an amazing group of friends, and I love them dearly. I feel very much at home here in California. It is always sunny, the beaches are beautiful and it is always warm. I am very happy. But please, don't think for a second that I don't think of you and Jane every day. I have a picture of the three of us in our wallet, and I look at it every day. I love and miss you both so dearly.
I know you are probably in tears, and I'm sure you are angry at me and my decision. I am sure you feel betrayed and embarrassed and humiliated. This is not why I sent this letter, though. Not to humiliate you, or to anger you. I thought after eight long years, that you deserved to know the truth about what really happened to me. I am not dead, I did not die when the Towers fell. I simply left. It was the perfect moment for me, and I took the opportunity to start over, to follow my dreams.

Susana, I honestly don't know what I expect out of you after reading this. I don't know if I should expect a response, a phone call, an email, for you to show up at my door and slap me in the face. I don't know. I don't know why I'm mailing this to you, other than the fact that I thought you should know the truth, and to know exactly what went on that day.

So, do what you want with this letter. Take it as you want to. I understand if you hate me, and if you never want to contact me. I would like to know, though, whether you received this or not. Below I have added my mailing address, my email, and my phone. Mail me, email me, call or text me, if you want. If you do not want to have Jane know about my existence, could you at least send me a recent picture of the two of you? Just so I can add another picture in my wallet. I don't know what else to say, except I love you and Jane both.

Love,
Gregory