"After 9/11, I used to hate
everybody around me. I was just so -
mad,” says Erik Abrahamson, whose
father, William, was working in the
World Trade Center during the
terrorist attacks. Erik, just 11
years old when his father was
killed, is about to start college.
He looks like any average American
teenager - black T-shirt, brown
floppy hair, a little awkward - but
when he talks about that day his jaw
tightens.
“I used to hate just everyone,
how they looked at me, everything,”
he says. “It's only this year that
I've started to really come to grips
with what went on. And how much I've
changed.”
Brielle Saracini's father,
Victor, was captain of the hijacked
United Airlines Boeing 767 that
crashed into the southern tower. Now
17, she is a pretty, articulate
schoolgirl who finds she can't
remember her father's face clearly
any more. “Some of my memories are
fading and it scares me,” she says.
“I remember his voice because it's
still on his voicemail: ‘Hi this is
Victor. I'll get back to you as soon
as I can', he says.” Brielle pauses
and looks away. “Sometimes it
bothers me that he won't get back to
me. But it has taken me all these
years to realise that.”
Nearly 3,000 children under the
age of 18 lost a parent during the
terrorist attacks of September 11,
2001. The average age of the “9/11
kids” when the twin towers fell was
9, but some were babies (or in their
mothers' wombs). In the immediate
aftermath of the tragedy many
organisations clamoured to offer
assistance to the grieving children,
offering everything from counselling
to music lessons, summer camps,
mentoring, art therapy and
scholarships. But, seven years on,
it seems that “9/11 fatigue” has set
in: funding for many of these
support projects has dried up along
with sympathy from friends and
family.
According to the charity
Tuesday's Children, which has
provided support to 5,000 family
members since its inception in 2001,
some children are only just
beginning to open up about losing
their parents. “This year, some kids
were able to express things for the
first time,” says Terry Grace Sears,
who is involved in running summer
camps and mentoring programmes for
the 9/11 kids. “Particularly the
young boys were grieving.”
Sears says that some children
were too young at the time of their
loss to comprehend it, while others
felt they needed to stay strong for
the surviving parent and repressed
their grief. They need support now
as much as ever - as the years go by
there are new challenges for the
9/11 kids to face as surviving
parents move on, remarry and form
stepfamilies. In some cases grief
has driven families apart, and rifts
with the deceased parents' relatives
have left some 9/11 kids estranged
from their grandparents.
On top of this comes the annual
media frenzy on the anniversary of
9/11, which sparks emotions ranging
from anger to revulsion and grief in
the young victims. “They're showing
my dad's death and it's just
offensive,” says Erik. “Every time I
see it, it brings up so much and it
actually really hurts.”
“You can't escape it. It's just
everywhere you go,” agrees Amy
Gardner, 16, who was interviewed
along with Erik and Brielle for the
US television news programme 60
Minutes. Her father was one of the
343 New York firefighters and
paramedics killed in the line of
duty on 9/11.
It's hardly surprising that a
recent study indicated that the rate
of psychiatric disorders is more
than double the norm among children
who lost loved ones in the 2001
terrorist attacks. Researchers at
Weill Cornell Medical College in New
York studied 45 of the 9/11 children
over two years to 2007 and found
that more than 50 per cent were
displaying signs of an anxiety
disorder, while a third had symptoms
of post-traumatic stress disorder.
And 27 per cent of the bereaved
children showed symptoms of
separation anxiety, while depression
was also a common problem - 14 per
cent had a major depressive
disorder, nearly three times as many
as in the control group.
Yet as the years pass, families
of US victims say that support from
relatives has waned or even stopped
completely, the implication being
that they should simply “get on with
their lives”. A survey of 110
families by the World Trade Center
Family Centre found that nearly a
quarter were now receiving little or
no support from family and friends.
Comments from respondents included:
“Some family members say to get on
with it now,” and “We were
originally inseparable but now we
are going our separate ways”.
The WTCFC has been forced to
close its doors to 9/11 families.
The centre, on Long Island, ran
counselling facilities and support
groups for more than 6,000 family
members and first responders but
folded in June this year due to lack
of funding. Dr Minna Barrett, a
psychologist who ran programmes for
the centre, recommended that her
clients continue to meet in
peer-support groups because the
effects of 9/11 continue. For some
they are only just coming to the
surface. “Many people repressed
their trauma and waited years before
seeking support,” she says.
The World Trade Center United
Family group, run by victims'
families, also lost its funding this
year but is struggling to stay
afloat.
These programmes, and many others
like them, relied on funding from
the Red Cross September 11 recovery
programme, which distributed more
than $1 billion in direct aid and
recovery grants to more than 100
organisations in the aftermath of
the attacks. But the programme came
to an end earlier this summer,
forcing many groups to close or seek
alternative sources of funding.
So what does this mean for the
9/11 kids? Tuesday's Children -
whose youngest member is 6 years old
- was forced to cut its staff by a
third this year when Red Cross
funding dried up and keeping its
projects going has become a constant
challenge. “So many people have
already dug deep into their pockets
to help us,” says Carmine Calzonetti,
Tuesday's Children president. “But
we just have to keep knocking on
doors and demonstrating that what
we're doing is still important.
People might feel that the events of
9/11 are in the past, but for these
kids the repercussions of the
attacks will never disappear.”
Despite the constant struggle for
money, the charity aims to support
each child through college and into
adulthood, although organisers
recognise that it's time for a
change of direction.
“It's time for the 9/11 kids to
start giving something back,” says
Calzonetti, who believes the way
forward lies in healing through
helping others. Recent initiatives,
such as Helping Heals, have focused
on translating personal loss into a
meaningful legacy for the future.
Brielle, Amy and Erik were among a
group of Tuesday's Children who
helped to build a school in Costa
Rica and assisted victims of
Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans.
“As these kids grow up they become
more aware of just how much people
have helped them,” Calzonetti says.
“They also want to use their
experiences and work with other kids
around the world to build a more
peaceful future.”
The initiative this summer,
Project Common Bond, brought
together 49 teenagers whose lives
have been directly affected by
terrorism. “Project Common Bond
allows children from all over the
world - the US, England, Northern
Ireland, Sierra Leone, Liberia and
Israel - who have experienced
similar tragedies, to build
resilience and strength together,”
says Calzonetti. The children,
including Martin Hart who lost his
father in the London 7/7 bombings,
engaged in team-building activities
and discussions on global leadership
issues. They developed a
proclamation that was presented to
Michael Bloomberg, the Mayor of New
York, and to the United Nations in
which they pledged to “aid in
resolving global conflicts and make
change for the generations to come”.
For Martin, whose father, Giles,
was killed in the bus bomb on July
7, 2005, the project was the first
opportunity to meet other kids who
had lost parents to terrorism. “It
really helped to know that I'm not
the only one,” he says. “It all
still feels very raw - for all of
us. The camp helped us to deal with
our own feelings but also to think
how we could work together to make
the world a better place.”
So is it possible for the
children of 9/11 to move forward,
without forgetting the past? “I
don't think I would be the same
person if 9/11 hadn't happened to
me,” Brielle Saracini says. “It has
made me realise that I need to be
nicer to people. Maybe if I can help
give back something it will spread
and people won't do things such as
hijack aeroplanes and take the lives
of other people.”
Brielle's friend Bridget Fisher,
a 19-year-old student at Villanova
University, Philadelphia, agrees.
Her father John was a security guard
in the World Trade Center who ran
back into the building when he heard
the explosion. Smiling through her
tears, Bridget says: “After 9/11
happened, I remember saying, ‘How am
I ever gonna be happy?' But I
figured it's by making other people
happy. It's by doing good deeds for
other people. That's what makes me
happy.”
www.tuesdayschildren.org
A survivor's story
Martin Hart was 17 when he
lost his father, Giles, in the
London terrorist attacks of July 7,
2005. He lives with his mother,
Danute, and his sister, Maryla, in
Hornchurch, Essex, and is now at
college studying drama. This summer
he attended Project Common Bond
along with children from all over
the world who had lost a parent to
terrorism.
“When my dad was killed it felt
like I didn't have time to grieve.
There was so much to do. Suddenly I
was the man of the house and all the
responsibility that entailed was
foisted upon me. I had to take on so
many new jobs, as well as trying to
offer support to my mum and my
sister - there just was no space for
me to grieve.
“As a boy you are expected to be
manly and crying is not a manly
thing to do. I cried a bit at my
dad's funeral, but otherwise I've
kept my feelings to myself. “But you
don't just get over losing a parent
in that way. Three years on there
are daily reminders of what I have
lost. My dad helped me a lot with my
studies and after he died I really
struggled. Just the other day I
wished that he was here to show me
how to do something on the computer
and I constantly feel the lack of a
male person to look up to and relate
to.
“This summer at Project Common
Bond was the first time I was able
to express my grief openly, which
was a huge release. I guess it was
because all the kids there
understood.
“I still really struggle to
forgive the people who killed my dad
but talking to others about the need
for forgiveness definitely got me
thinking. The project convinced me
that those of us who have suffered
at the hands of terrorists can play
a really important role in shaping
the future of the world and helping
to overcome terrorism. We have to be
better than them - it's as simple as
that.”
