Tag Archives: memories

25 Years Later: Remembering September 11, 2001

September 11, 2026

Twenty-five years ago, on the morning of September 11, 2001, I woke up around 7:00 or 7:30 to prepare breakfast for a house full of family before heading to work.

We were in Bedford, Texas, and my dad (Tevita Vaiola Finau) was nearing the end of his life. Family had come from near and far to spend time with him. His younger brother, Haitini, had come from Tonga and had already been with us for a while. His sister, Ngalo‘afe, and her son Sam Taufa had been there for perhaps a week or two. My brother Lipoi had come from Boston, and my cousin Tevita Havea was visiting before returning to the UK, where he was attending school.

I was grateful to have my aunt there, and of course, there was Sam, always annoying and funny at the same time. He had that Tongan kind of humor where the joke was often at your expense, and Sam did not always know where the limits were. Even during a difficult season for our family, there was still laughter in the house.

That Tuesday morning, I was in the kitchen trying to make omelets when I heard Lipoi from the second living room on the phone. His son Kofe had called from Boston telling him to turn on the news. A plane had crashed into one of the Twin Towers.

Tevita woke up, and soon everyone else in the house did too. We turned on the television, and before long, the second tower was hit as we watched it live.

There was shock, and an unspoken fear in the house. No one needed to name it. There was hesitation, uneasiness, confusion, and sadness as we watched something unimaginable unfold, unsure of what it meant or what might happen next.

Still, breakfast needed to be finished.

So I kept cooking and trying to turn around every few seconds to watch the screen.

I made breakfast for Dad and everyone else, got ready, and went to the office later that morning. I didn’t have to, but I felt I needed to. My office was also in Bedford, which made it convenient, and it was about 10 minutes from Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport.

But the office was not the same.

There was silence, sadness, and an unprocessed nervousness. Things were on hold. Some of us stepped outside onto the sixth-floor balcony to sit together and process what was happening.

And I remember the sky.

Living and working so close to DFW Airport, we were accustomed to seeing and hearing airplanes all the time. But that day, after flights across the country were grounded, there were none.

No planes overhead.

The silence was eerie.

I eventually went home, and we simply sat, talanoa (talked), watched the news, and wondered what would happen next. My aunt wanted to return home to Sydney sooner. Tevita was supposed to fly back to the UK the next day, but his flight was canceled. Lipoi needed to return to Boston for work, but his flight was canceled too.

Nobody was going anywhere.

So, for a little longer, we were all there together.

That Tuesday evening, we went to church. Tevita preached that night. Afterward, we went to Denny’s, one of the few restaurants we found open.

Looking back twenty-five years later, it is strange what the mind holds onto.

I remember cooking omelets. I remember the television. I remember the silence at work. I remember looking into a sky without airplanes. I remember canceled flights and disrupted plans.

But mostly, I remember my family.

September 11 will forever be remembered for the thousands of lives lost that day and for the countless families whose lives were forever changed. Yet woven into my memory of that terrible day is gratitude. I am grateful that when those horrific events unfolded, I was surrounded by family.

We had gathered because another goodbye was already approaching.

Eventually, the skies reopened. Lipoi returned to Boston. Tevita returned to the UK. My aunt Fē and Sam eventually returned to Sydney. Everyone made it back to wherever home was.

Then, just weeks later, on October 29, 2001, my dad also went home to his final resting home.

And our family gathered again.

Tevita returned from the UK. Jione came from Australia. Ma‘ata and Mele‘ana came from Tonga. Haitini’s sons came too, Niponi from Los Angeles and Kisione from Fiji. Haitini had stayed with us through Dad’s final days. Once again, our family came from across the world, this time to say goodbye.

Twenty-five years later, September 11 reminds me of how suddenly life can change, how quickly our plans can be interrupted, and how precious it is to find ourselves surrounded by the people we love when it happens.

We could not control the planes, the schedules, the uncertainty, or the losses that were coming.

But for that moment, we were together.

And twenty-five years later, that is one of the things I remember most.