No Getting Over September 11, 2001

It was little over a year ago that Tom and JoAnn Meehan were setting up a 9-11 display at the Ocean County Library, shortly before the ninth anniversary of the terrorist attacks.

Two women passed by as they worked. One woman said to the other "Why don't they get over it?"

"I was putting things into the display case," JoAnn said. "These women knew I was right next to it. They were right next to me."

"I held my tongue," Tom Meehan said.

There is no closure for Tom and JoAnn Meehan, or their only surviving child, Daryl. The loss of their 26-year-old daughter Colleen - who died in the North Tower - never leaves them. The ache is perpetual.

This past week the couple traveled to Ground Zero to observe the 10th anniversary of the terrorist attacks and listen to Daryl recite the names of some of those lost, including his own sister. The day before, they went to Jersey City for the "Empty Sky" memorial, then headed back to Bayville late in the day for the dedication of a piece of Twin Towers.

"W were exhausted all this week," JoAnn said in an interview at their Holiday Heights home. "We didn't do anything. I haven't slept well since."

Daryl, 42, lives in Barnegat with his wife and three daughters. He has never recovered from his sister's death. But he applied to be a reader at the ceremony as a way to honor her.

"He was very, very nervous," JoAnn Meehan said.

Right before Daryl was slated to read, an official made an annoucement that the program was running too long and that the readers would have to speed things up. So Daryl didn't get the chance to say all he would have liked, his mother said.

"He made it very brief," JoAnn said. "He said, 'My beautiful sister, Colleen.' I kissed him and said 'I'm so proud of you.' "

Then they headed over to a private luncheon hosted by Howard Lutnick, head of Cantor Fitzgerald. Lutnick, whose brother died in the North Tower, hosts the lunch every year for the employees families.

Except for one year when JoAnn was recovering from surgery, the couple has gone into New York for the memorial ceremony and the reading of the names. But they are upset over New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg's recent announcement that this would probably be the last year the names are read at the city's 9-11 ceremony.

"I understand that the media coverage will die down," Tom Meehan said. "For me, it's that the names be remembered. I don't care about the venue. I want to see the names read. I think the mayor did an injustice by prematurely announcing it. I think in the back of everyone's mind was the thought that this may be the last year to do it."

And while the Meehans have no problem with the overall design of the memorial, they and many other families thought that the unidentified remains of  those lost would be interred somewhere on the grounds, where people could visit and pay their respects.

"We thought there would be a separate and distinct memorial," Tom Meehan said. "We were thinking of something like the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. That's what was presented to us initially. It was implied very strongly there would be a separate repository for the remains."

But now the plans have changed. The unidentified remains will be placed behind a wall below ground in the 9-11 museum.

"Seven stories below ground, behind a wall," Tom Meehan said. "You're going to charge the public 20 bucks to visit. It's almost like a sense of betrayal. Things didn't come to pass in the manner you had hoped for."

In the end, the city has designed a "sanitized version" of the memorial, he said.

"When you step back and look at the entire site, you see the city got what it wanted," Tom Meehan said.

"It would be nice if there were an explanation of what these memorial pools are," JoAnn said. "Kids will probably be playing in them in years to come."

Like many other families that day, the Meehans have their own "what if" story. Colleen - a facilities director for Cantor Fitzgerald on the 103rd floor - drove into the city three days a week. When she drove, she would arrive at the North Tower at 9 a.m. She took the bus two other days of the week. When Colleen took the bus, she got to work half an hour early, at 8:30 a.m. She took the bus on Sept. 11, 2001. She was at her desk when the first plane hit.