Today I called the World Trade Center Health line to report my husband’s death in 2016. Every year since 9/11, Jason was sent a health report to fill out and, according to their representative, was one of a group that did so diligently.
Jason was a very diligent person. Whatever he did, he did thoughtfully and thoroughly. His vocation was designing internal architecture: work spaces, telecommunications, underground safes, etc., and making sure they worked smoothly. His avocation was wood carving, which I always felt should have been is vocation... perhaps next time around. He was an extremely talented artist.
On 9/11, I turned on the TV and saw that the World Trade Center had been struck. Since my husband worked at Ground Zero, I called him immediately and was on the phone with Jay when the second plane hit and we realized that it was no accident. Jason made sure all of his company’s offices were vacated and, as he later told me, found many people on their knees, praying. It was a ghastly experience, but he kept his head. For the next number of weeks, Jason was among the few people allowed into the stricken area to help put things back into some kind of order.
The health representative asked me many questions, apologizing as she did so. I thought it would be more difficult for me, but in answering her, I was able to speak of my husband’s great feeling for humanity and how selfless he was when it came to helping others. It pleased her to know he had arranged to donate his body to Mount Sinai Hospital’s School of Medicine.
Jason was a true Renaissance man, with interests and capabilities in a wide range of fields and topics. I miss his laughter, the touch of his hand, the stimulating conversations we used to have and most of all, the feeling of happiness I felt when he walked into a room. He lit up my life and we completed each other.
Although tears are now stinging my eyes, I rejoice in the knowledge that our relationship was and is the essence and true meaning of “kismet.”
Adrienne can be reached at AKL.email@example.com.