The day before Shawna’s operation, Tuesday, September 11, 2001, rolled around. Shawna was watching the television in her hospital room.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said the news commentator, interrupting the cartoon show that Shawna was watching. “Just moments ago a passenger aircraft just crashed into the World Trade Center.”

“Where is the World Trade Center?” Shawna asked the nurse that had just walked by her doorway.

“Pardon dear,” said the nurse, poking her head into Shawna’s room.

“Where is the World Trade Center?” Shawna asked.

“Why it’s in New York City,” said the nurse.

“Are you sure?” asked Shawna.

“Oh I am positive,” said the nurse.

“Oh no!” gasped Shawna. “That’s where my Daddy is.”

“Why do you look so frightened?” asked the nurse, when she saw the look on Shawna’s face.

Shawna couldn’t speak. All she could do was point to the television.

“What’s going on?” asked another nurse out in the hallway.

“This little girl was just telling me that her Father is in New York City,” said the first nurse.

“Oh no!” gasped Shawna again, pointing once more to the television. “They just crashed into the second tower.”

Both nurses stood hovering over Shawna and her television set.

“Dear, dear,” cried the second nurse. “They have crashed into the World Trade Center!”

“My Daddy is in that building,” cried Shawna.

Shawna burst into tears.