The Last Place
Anita LaFond Korsonsky Sister of Jeanette LaFond Menichino, assistant VP at Marsh McLennan
JEANETTE WAS FOUR YEARS YOUNGER than me, my little sister in every way. Even as an adult, she was just 5-foot-1. She was an artist, went to art school, never finished college, but she got a job at an insurance company and ended up becoming an assistant vice president at Marsh McLennan.
As I often did before starting my workday, I called Jeanette on September 11, but she didn’t pick up. I went to get coffee. Then a co-worker came in and said he’d heard that a plane had just hit the North Tower. I remember thinking, “Wow, somebody really doesn’t know how to fly a plane!” I tried to call my sister again but there was still no answer.
As my co-workers and I watched on our computers, I saw the gaping, fiery hole in the North Tower. The part of the building where my sister worked no longer existed. It didn’t take long before we saw the buildings collapse. And that was it. Just like that, I knew in my heart that I would never see my sister again.
At four o’clock that afternoon, I was sitting in my living room in New Jersey, looking out the window at the clear blue sky. My only thought was, “Where is she?” As a Catholic, I’d always had faith in God, but I don’t know that I expected an answer.
It wasn’t like the burning bush or anything, but I suddenly had a feeling—not even necessarily in words—of God telling me, “Don’t worry. She was so close to heaven, up on the 94th floor, that I just reached down and took her by the hand. She is safe now.” From that moment, I knew that I would miss her terribly, but I was able to move on with my life.
My husband, Michael, was almost at the World Trade Center that day. He was planning to go to a conference that had been scheduled for September 11, but they’d pushed it back to September 13. I don’t really think in terms of God saving my husband but not saving my sister. There are reasons. They might not be reasons we’ll ever be able to understand.
Now that my mom is 97, it would be wonderful to have my sister around to help out. A lot of times, I have the feeling, “I wish you were still here.” It still feels like she’s supposed to be here at this point in my life. But I don’t hold any anger about it. I’m just not that kind of person.
For my mother, it was an insane loss. She ended up volunteering at the 9/11 Tribute Center to lead walking tours of the World Trade Center site. She talked about the events of 9/11 and losing my sister. It was almost like a form of therapy for her. She found solace with fellow tour guides who’d also lost loved ones on that day. She led something like 450 tours.
It took a while before I was able to go to the memorial. But eventually it became a place of contemplation. My sister loved her job. She always said, “Out of all the offices in the city, how did I get lucky enough to be working in this building, with this view?” When I’m standing at the reflecting pool in front of Jeanette’s name, I don’t feel grief. I know it sounds strange, but it’s a place of life for me. Because it’s the last place where my sister was alive.
“She was so close to heaven, I just reached down and took her by the hand.”