She wrote:
"Dearest Mom, I am still in shock. I am constantly sleepy, all I want to do is sleep, perhaps to somehow wake up and find out that this is all a horrible dream. But every time I do wake up, it is real.
"During the summer, I usually came in to work after 9 a.m. But on this particular day, I had decided to go in extra early. I was at my desk at 8:30. In fact my PATH train, which pulls in under the WTC, came in at 8:15, and I remember telling myself that since I’m early it would be nice to do a little window shopping and just roll into my office at 9. But I thought against it. Thank goodness.
"There were already a few people at their desks. (My desk is cubicles away from an office that had a huge window view of the Twin Towers on the 32nd floor of 130 Liberty Street. At about 8:45, we all heard a rumbling sound, not unlike some people moving heavy furniture on the floor above, similar also to the sound of air conditioning breaking down. Soon after, we heard an explosion and saw debris, sheets of paper, and fireballs outside the window.
"My instant reaction was to leave. My immediate analysis was that a bomb had hit the World Trade Center. I rallied a few of my co-workers and urged them to go down the exit stairs with me, which they did. In my mind, I kept thinking, ‘I have two young kids who need their mother.’
"As soon as we got to the ground floor, we found out from somebody that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. ‘It must have been a terrible accident,’ we said. ‘Maybe the pilot had a heart attack. Let’s go back upstairs. Our desks are safer because the street in front of our building was full of burning debris.’ Like idiots, we marched back upstairs. As long as it’s not a bomb, right?
"I got back to my desk. At 9:06 the second plane hit the second tower. Nobody expected it. It was unbelievable. Die Hard 4 or something like that. Some of the senior managers were having a meeting at the corner of the office and a couple of them spilled coffee on their shirts. Of course, they had a breathtaking view of the Twin Towers.
"Still, most everyone was a little nonchalant about the whole thing. After all, we were a whole width of street away from the World Trade Center. Security announced that we would begin evacuating the building. And still we all took our sweet time leaving the floor. There were folks to call. Purses to retrieve. Two-cent opinions to be shared. Plans of action to be put into motion (i.e., how do we get back home?). A group of us decided to take the downtown ferry to Hoboken.
"It must have taken us 10 or 15 minutes to traverse 32 flights of stairs. Some of the older ones had to catch their breaths. I had safely gotten out of the building at maybe 9:30 or 9:35 then we started our trek to the waterfront, about three or four blocks away. We must have stopped two or three times to look at the view of each of the planes stuck in each of the towers. It was a sight to see. But we had wasted precious moments.
"By the time we got to Battery Park City (a small residential area at the very tip of Manhattan, mostly condos (very expensive ones), which is about a street and the West Side Highway away from the World Trade Center, it was about 10 a.m. I lost track of time, really. We heard an explosion and then a huge snowfall of ash and soot. It never even entered my mind that the World Trade Center tower building had collapsed. My impression was that a bomb had exploded in one of the nearby condos. The next instant, I realized that the building had indeed collapsed and my immediate thinking was I was going to be buried in the WTC ash.
"I contemplated diving into the Hudson and swimming to New Jersey. I was mentally calculating how many miles that would be (10 to 20, I wasn’t sure). But then, I decided to go with most everyone as they headed southeast. I had lost my friends in the commotion. But I found three of them again after a few minutes of walking. We were all covered in ash and soot. And I tell you, Mom, that ash had a bit of fine glass in it because it hurt when I touched my face.
"I was in constant contact with Bob (husband Bob Iglesia) via cell phone. Although most lines were overloaded, cell-to-cell lines were okay, at least with my provider, Verizon. Thank God for my cheapo no-frills Audiovox cell phone that had a long battery life. While walking I said several prayers for those who were less fortunate than I was. I prayed a million thanks that I had escaped that disaster.
"We were at the South Street Seaport when the second tower collapsed and again a huge downpour of ash ensued. I told my friends, we should get as far away as possible from the WTC. We decided to walk to 39th Street on the West Side to take the only ferry running, the Weehawken ferry.
"Needless to say, we waited in line for two hours but finally we were safely onboard the ferry. There were free bottles of water for everyone. Bob had insisted on me getting a hotel and staying the night but I just wanted to get home.
"When I got home I took bath, after which I took a shower. I had to clean the bathtub after my bath! It was truly filthy. Then I hugged and hugged my little ones.
"Almost all the people I know in the world had either called or e-mailed me to see if I had made it. That was nice.
"I was riveted to the news on TV. I felt that being so close to the scene, I truly didn’t know what was happening. Never, ever had it occurred to me that a site as magnificent as the World Trade Center, as symbolic of the United States, its economic power, its blend of peoples, its technological and architectural advancement, could ever crumble like that.
"They kept showing the actual impact of when each plane hit each tower. Every time I see it, it pains me. It is wild and painful at the same time. Those scenes. And then they show the toppling of the buildings. And that too is amazing and horrible at the same time. I never, ever realized that it could collapse in so short a time. One hundred and ten stories, just like that.
"The people who did this are evil. That I know. I cannot comprehend it. I have friends who are Muslim and I know that they have an angry and brave streak in them. But they are not evil like this. We need to include them in our prayers.
"All in all, I am still pretty lucky. My guardian angels are always on their toes. I’m really worried for my children. I think they need their mom still. Thanks for all your prayers.
"I am certain God heard. Thank you."
In October, 2002, a few days before her 42 birthday, Gigi was given the terrible news: she had breast cancer. Any other person in her place might have plunged into despair, but not my Gigi.
She decided to fight the cancer, to undergo a mastectomy immediately and to find out everything about the illness in books from authorities and on the Internet so as to be equipped to fight and conquer it.
Moreover, she started praying more frequently than ever and asked her friends and relatives to join her in praying for her recovery and eventual cure.
She volunteered to be a guinea pig for clinical tests for a cure of cancer. She obeyed her physicians religiously, coming in for chemotherapy when told to. After each chemotherapy session she felt nauseous and weak but no one ever heard her complain. She clung to life, not for herself, but for her two little ones – Angelica and Alexandra.
So it was that, despite her discomfort and pain, she still attended to the needs of her children – bathing them, fixing their hair, even carrying them in her arms up the stairs of her New Jersey home. Though at first she continued working as vice president of Deutsche Bank, Manhattan, she tried to spend as much time as she could with "Jelly" and "Lexie," on whom she lavished her love.
In April, 2005, she wrote me that she was feeling all right and that in fact, her doctor had told her that she had nothing to worry about. What an irony!
In September, she called up in the middle of the night to tell me her back was aching and that she would have to undergo an operation. And she asked: "When are you coming, Ma?"
I told her "December, remember? For our reunion!" I foolishly ignored the anxiety in her voice, not realizing that she wanted me at her side, but that, in her desire not to inconvenience me, she had not asked me outright to fly to her.
What a world of difference that would have made! Engrossed in my plans, I had overlooked her cry for help. The next month, again held back by obligations at the National Press Club, I could not leave until October 30, three days after her 45th birthday. By then, it was too late. God took her while I was on the plane, bound for New Jersey.
Because there is no history of cancer in our family, when Gigi told us that she had contracted cancer in October 2002, I remember asking her if there was any connection between her 2001 experience and the cancer. She said she would look into it, but never did.
Yet even now, I am certain that the falling debris, whatever chemicals may have been in them that covered may Gigi that fateful Sept. 11, as well as the stress and tension, contributed to the cancer that she suffered.
I suppose only time will tell.
I have chosen to write about Gigi’s experience in her own words today, as a tribute to her indomitable spirit, her humanity, her selflessness. I truly believe I do not deserve to have had such a wonderful daughter. I guess, as the song goes, "Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good."