Five Years

Five Years
By Tiffany Copeland

Once a year at this time I have a pain. It’s a pain that I cannot explain to you, and even if I tried, you surely could not empathize. It’s a dull pain that lingers most of the year without a second thought; only aggravated once in a while by certain dates or memories. It has become part of me, as common as an old sports injury, a pain that hangs around always. But, as summer fades into fall, the pain becomes worse. It’s no longer a lingering pain; it is a sharp, stabbing, aching pain.

This year marks a milestone, and is proving to be especially painful. Everywhere you turn, there is a reminder that we have reached the five year anniversary of September 11th . It is a tragic event that will never be forgotten in the minds of every American.
It’s one of those days that stays with you. If asked, you can recall where you were and what you were doing when the first plane hit the tower. I too remember, because I thought the world was ending. I was lying in my parents’ bed, high on sedatives, because my world as I knew it had just fallen apart around me. My husband Tim was killed tragically just 30 hours before the first tower fell. I awoke out of my drug induced sleep, to the sounds of my mother yelling, calling all to gather around the television. We were under attack. I awoke to my families, and the rest of America’s, panic, and even more death, with a feeling of helplessness and a fear of my own eminent demise. Even in my drugged state, I knew that my life, and the life of thousands of survivors, widows, and families would forever be changed.
I struggled for quite some time; every mention of September 11th flooding me with emotion. I am certain that these two tragic events, that I now refer to as my twin towers, will forever be combined in my mind. To this day, both events seem so surreal. They remain in my mind categorized in a different file than most memories. These I see in third person. They play out like a movie when I recall bits and pieces, almost as if it didn’t really happen to me or as if I wasn’t there.


I lost my husband in a car accident five years ago, when an impatient man crossed over a double yellow line, and hit him head on. He died instantly. We were newlyweds, only married for a year, just beginning our lives together. We had so much hope and promise for our future. We were in the process of building our first home together and had set our sites on living forever in our hometown, Colorado Springs. We had everything planned, from when we were going to have children, to the family barbeques we would host in years to come. We had so much in common. He was a free spirit with a passion for life and a love of everyone. Together we made the most out of every second we spent together. We loved the outdoors, camped and hiked on the weekends, and spent the week working hard for our future. He worked in the computer industry and always impressed me with his dedication and skill. He was a talented musician, and could play anything, even after hearing it just once. Tim was always so full of life and such an amazing soul. From the time we started dating at 17, we knew we were going to be best friends for the rest of our lives. What wasn’t planned was how short that life would be. When I lost him my life as I knew it fell apart. It would take years to realize that from death, comes new beginnings. More often than not, the death of a family member is devastating and is seen as a negative, sad part of life. I believed that too- in the beginning. It took some time, and the stories of perseverance from September 11th widows, to help push me through. I related somehow to the families of those lost in the World Trade Center. I took a strange comfort in the fact that so many others had just lost loved ones. I knew that I was not alone. While it was painful, I gained strength hearing stories of survival on television, and watching widows of September 11th persevere. I knew that I could be strong too, and would not let the pain and emptiness overtake me.
.

The year following Tim’s death was eye opening. I realized that losing him had given me a new life, one that I was actually beginning to like. At first, I felt so much guilt and angst. You see, I was supposed to be in the car with him. We left our home at the same time that day, but in different vehicles. We were going to the same place, and had planned on leaving at the same time. Why did we drive separately? It’s something that still comes up in conversation to this day. There really was no reason or explanation. How could I feel good after losing someone so close to my heart, especially when I should have been in the car with him? Why was I spared? I feared for quite some time that I was too happy, that even 3,4,5 years later I should be sad and upset about his death. The more I did with my life, and the happier I felt, the more morbid I began feeling inside. I struggled, even questioning whether I really loved him at all if I could feel ok and get on with my life this easily. I used to sit back and reflect, and think of where I may have been if my life had followed the original course. Would I have children right now? Would I have ever finished my education? Tim didn’t like to travel. Would I have ever had the opportunity to visit foreign countries?


After five years of reflection, I have now realized that there is no right way to cope with death. You can choose to live in the past and dwell on what might have been, or you can be optimistic, and have a bright outlook on your future. The choice is up to you. I chose to survive, and to build a life for myself that he would be proud of. While I will always have a dull pain, it’s not a pain about what might have been had he not died, it’s merely the feelings I have because of how much I miss him as a person. I rejoice in the fact that I am happy now and will one day be married again, to someone equally as wonderful. I hang onto him in my heart and learned so much from the experiences we shared while he was alive and have learned and grown so much since his death. I have learned to only look back and recall fond memories of Tim and the good times we shared. These are the things I cherish. He helped mold me into who I am in so many different ways. He taught me that life should be spontaneous, not to fear what others think of you, and to never worry about tomorrow. For these life lessons I am eternally grateful. I think about the things I have accomplished in the past few years and am proud. I have traveled the world, moved away from my comfort zone to experience city life, broken free of stereotypes, and pushed myself in different directions with great expectations. I am back in school and hope to be a successful woman in business. Without the strength that I gained from my experiencing loss, I never would have had the courage to do all that I have done; and I’m just getting started.

People cope with the loss of a loved one in many ways. For me, the experiences I have had have surprisingly led to personal growth, forged from difficult and trying times. I truly believe I have had the privilege of living two lives. This one I will not take for granted because I know how quickly your breath can be taken. I continue to struggle with losing my best friend and husband, but I love my life, and know that I will see him again someday. Until then, I vow to experience as much of this life and of this world as I can, in remembrance of Tim. And even though I struggle with the lingering pain of not having him in my life, and will be reminded so vividly of his death every year, I will be grateful to be alive and will never take life for granted.