Pycior, then 8 years old, says that that phrase whirled around in his head for nearly a decade until one day he snapped. “It isn’t appropriate to tell an 8-year-old to be strong for their mom. … They shouldn’t even have to be strong for themselves. They should be allowed the space to grieve and be vulnerable,” says Pycior, who is a school social worker at Manville High School in Manville, New Jersey. He says to this day he regrets that he bottled up his feelings to spare his mother, who was grieving, too. “I think that we, as a society, need to allow more space for the feeling of emotions — especially for boys and men,” says Pycior.
‘I Put on a Facade That I Was Fine’
He was asleep when his older brother woke Pycior on 9/11 to tell him a plane had gone into the Twin Towers. His aunt called next to tell his family to turn on the television. Pycior watched as another aircraft crashed into the western side of the Pentagon, which is where his father had recently moved his office. Pycior was used to his dad being gone six to eight months at a time when he was deployed. So the finality of his father’s death took a while to set in, he says. Almost immediately after the attack family and neighbors began coming to “set up shop,” he says. Pycior remembers people brought lots of food, but he doesn’t remember anyone asking how he was doing even though he was sad, angry at the situation, confused, and wondering how and why the attack happened. “An 8-year-old doesn’t know terrorism. I felt like a kid who lost their innocence in a way,” says Pycior. “But I put on a facade that I was fine and went about my days.”
‘My Brain Went Into Protective Mode’
Pycior is one of more than 3,000 kids left behind to mourn a parent who died in the 9/11 attacks, according to the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI). “The sheer scale of the day can make individual stories seem less important,” he says. Since he was grieving for his father while millions more across the nation mourned the attack, Pycior says he rarely took private time to reflect on what had happened to him and his family. “I was not grieving. I couldn’t comprehend it,” he says. “My brain went into protective mode and was locked up and bottled up.” Roxane Cohen Silver, PhD, distinguished professor of psychological science, medicine, and public health at the University of California in Irvine, says an individual loss is different from a collective loss. “I don’t think sharing a death is better or worse,” adds Dr. Silver, who has studied the acute and long-term reactions to personal traumas, as well as the impact of larger community disasters, such as terrorist attacks, for more than 30 years. Pycior made it through his father’s first burial stoically without breaking down. He says it was hard then, and now, to reconcile the fact that his father does not have just one grave. “I have leaned toward seeing his gravesite in a New Jersey veterans cemetery as his ‘main grave,’ and viewing the Pentagon itself and the burial at Arlington Cemetery as ‘secondary graves.’” There is a group burial marker at Arlington National Cemetery for the final remains of the 184 victims who lost their lives at the Pentagon on 9/11, including unidentified ones. Pycior says he is unsure if any remains of his father are there. Pycior says he thinks he would’ve come to terms with his grief in a different manner if not for all the public grieving. “The public nature both helped in terms of finding a wider community and ability to connect, but also hurt in terms of the constant reminders and politicization of the event,” he says. Another reason it was hard to say goodbye to loved ones lost in the attacks is that people didn’t just die. Their bodies were destroyed. Many mourners had no remains to say a last goodbye to, Silver explains. “In this particular tragedy most people didn’t get to see a full body in an open casket,” she says.
‘Hectic and Crazy and Just Insane’
Shortly after Pycior buried his father he learned that the family would be moving to New Jersey in a few months to be near relatives because they were not allowed to stay in military housing after his father’s death. As if that weren’t isolating enough, Pycior never went back to his elementary school. He was homeschooled until the family moved. “The months leading up to the move were hectic and crazy and just insane,” he says. He says he remembers briefly being connected with a counseling agency, but those services didn’t last long. “Knowing we were moving we didn’t follow through as much with counseling and stuff,” says Pycior. Pycior’s new teachers in New Jersey were made aware his father died on 9/11, he says. But he rarely talked about it with people other than his family, including his classmates. “Other kids didn’t have a grasp of 9/11.” So Pycior continued to bottle up his emotions. During his teenage years, however, Pycior found himself growing angrier and angrier. “I had a lack of respect for my mom at home. I was pushing boundaries, and all of this to a more significant degree than I think a normal teen [would],” says Pycior. When he turned 18, Pycior adds, “I sort of decided that moving into adulthood I needed to process the loss. I had lots of anger. It was bubbling up.”
What Helped Was Finding Others
Pycior finally figured out how to safely unleash all the conflicting emotions he had packed away for so long. He connected with three nonprofit organizations: Tuesday’s Children (which began as a 9/11 support group but now supports families affected by terrorism, military events, or violence), Comfort Zone Camp (an organization that offers support for grieving children and young adults with camp and other experiences), and the Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors (TAPS), which supports families of military survivors. Silver says there is enormous variability in how individuals respond to a specific loss. Some may seek out a support group while others may engage in new hobbies. “The assumption that there is only one way to grieve is really a myth. There is no one-size-fits-all response,” says Silver. “People’s reactions are often a normal reaction to an abnormal trauma.” Pycior says discovering those organizations was a turning point for him. Connecting with them pushed him to get more involved with communities impacted by loss. They helped him better understand the emotions he was feeling. “Talking about it and sharing the story of my loss with others made me recognize I wasn’t alone and life was going to keep going,” says Pycior. He is still involved with each of these programs. In hindsight, Pycior sometimes wonders: If he hadn’t left his community and connections in Washington, DC, could he have healed quicker? There may be many ways to grieve, but sustained, chronic grief for over a year where someone becomes disengaged with life and ruminates on their loved one and also avoids reminders of their loss may be a sign that someone needs additional support, according to Silver. Anyone experiencing this kind of grief should consider seeking help, she says. That doesn’t mean that after acknowledging and talking more about his loss, Pycior doesn’t still have moments of intense grief. There are occasions that cause Pycior to tear up thinking about his loss. In January, Pycior and his wife celebrated the birth of their daughter. “She will never know her grandfather,” Pycior says. He adds that what’s different about how he handles his grief now is that he won’t ignore his feelings or the texts from family and friends who reach out year after year on the anniversary of 9/11. “Growing up ignoring everything was self-isolating,” he says. Pycior, in his work as a social worker and outside of that, uses the event of 9/11 to educate his students and everyone else about loss and grief. By not ignoring everything you might open yourself up to painful feelings, but you also open yourself up to healing and the support of those around you. “I just encourage people to find connections,” he says.
