You Never Know Who Will Touch You the Most

In October 2003, I got a call from my agent that Ladies Home Journal needed a makeup artist for a photo shoot in suburban Pennsylvania. I was very excited to get the call and readily said, “Yes”. I was so excited to get a job for a major magazine. When I asked her what the shoot was going to be about, she told me it was for three widows of men who died in the 9/11 attacks. Immediately, all my joy of working for Ladies Home Journal left my heart. The women were building a memorial garden in Bucks County, Pa. and the article featured their stories, as well as the garden. Usually, when I go to a shoot, it’s a very happy occasion, and it’s fun and exciting. I knew there would be none of that this time. How could I get myself psyched to do makeup on these women, when all I could think about was 9/11 and the loss of life? The drive down to Pennsylvania took about an hour and a ½. I cried the entire drive down to Pennsylvania. I cried for these women. I cried for 9/11. I cried for New York and I cried for the state of the world.

When I arrived, I gathered myself and tried to think positive thoughts. Upon meeting the 3 women, I noticed they were happy, gracious, and calm. Ok, so why was I the only one on the brink of tears? How did they remain so calm with a smile on their face as they were about to tell their 9/11 stories once again? Two years have passed, and my wounds were still bleeding, so their strength was unbelievable. As I did their hair and makeup, the writer was interviewing them. They never shed a tear and yet my glasses were fogging up. We went out to the future site of the garden, and it already felt like sacred ground.

It was the hardest job I loved doing. I would have done it for free, just to be in their presence and learn how to cope with this tragedy. If they could do it, I surely could! Calm is the only word I can think of to describe the flow of the day. If they were crying, I know I would have easily broken down right along with them. They gave me such hope that it is possible to keep living in the face of despair. They were all examples of grace under fire, and that was a big lesson I needed to learn at the time. I never thought they would be my teachers. I’m sure they don’t remember me and never think of me, but I think of them all the time. Out of all the spa and makeup jobs I have done, the celebrities and T.V. shows, the job that will forever stand out to me, is 3 women standing in the middle of an empty field in Pennsylvania. I cried all the way home, but these were very different tears than the ones I cried driving to the shoot.

These women are the faces of strength.
These women are the faces of triumph.
These women are the faces of America.