Editor’s Note: The essay below was written in 2001 and appears in the self-published book, Through Our Eyes: A Tapestry of Words and Images in Response to September 11. Printed and distributed in 2002, the book was the result of an independent, volunteer documentary project organized by a journalist and several friends. The author’s bio was written in 2002 and has not been updated.
It wasn’t uncommon for Margaret and Dorothy Mauro to talk on the phone several times a day. But the twin sisters had their last conversation on the morning of Sept. 11. Dorothy, who worked in the north tower, perished. Today, her sister strives to keep her memory alive. Margaret, 55, was born in Brooklyn, New York, and now lives in Antioch, Tennessee, where she works as a software quality control analyst. Her interests include photography, gardening and reading. She has traveled through most of the United States, along with Italy, Germany, Switzerland, England, Ireland, Scotland, Austria and Spain. She is Catholic. Margaret was at work when terrorists struck. She quickly headed home and waited by the phone. She wrote her submission Feb. 13.
That horrific day is imprinted in my brain forever. I lost my twin sister on that day. We spoke that morning for the last time at about 7:45CDT (Central Daylight Time). When I heard that the first plane hit the North Tower, I didn’t know which building the newscasters were referring to. So I hurriedly picked up my cell phone and tried to get through. All I got was a busy signal.
I worked in the North Tower for nine years on the same exact floor my twin sister was working on that day in September. I had never heard it referred to as the North Tower. When I saw the second plane hit the South Tower, I left my job to drive home and wait by the phone to hear if my sister made it out okay. But I waited and waited and no call came. I sat glued to the television like so many other people did that day and answered phone calls from caring friends.
I think that was the hardest day of my life. Five months have passed and there isn’t a day I don’t miss her and wish the phone would ring and it would be her on the other end, telling me she’s okay. We were extremely close; we spoke to each on the average of five or six times a day because we were the only two left besides my aging father.
I want to keep her memory alive. Her name was Dorothy Mauro and she worked for Marsh McLennan.