What a difference a year makes.

Last June, nine months after her husband boarded American Airlines Flight 11 in Bos-ton one brilliant September morning in 2001 and never returned, Susan Retik wondered how she and her three young children would get through Father's Day. She feared it could potentially be the most difficult day of the year for them.

Then she devised a plan. To honor her husband - a runner - and the other fathers lost on Sept. 11, 2001, she established the Dave Retik Father's Day 5K Fun Run. The charitable event drew more than 1,000 people.

It also raised $45,000 for the Retik Mello Foundation, which supports education and athletics.

"It was just an incredible event," Mrs. Retik says, sitting at her kitchen table as sunlight dances across the yellow- flowered tablecloth. "There was a buzz in the air. There was just this unbelievable feeling of community warmth. It was awesome."

So awesome, in fact, that she is repeating the run this year.

For families who lost fathers and husbands in the terrorist attacks, Father's Day brings a rush of emotions. Once an occasion for gifts and hugs, it is now defined by absence and memories.

Yet as the second post-Sept. 11 Father's Day approaches on Sunday, some family members, like Retik, find themselves reflecting not just on loss, but also on the progress they've made.

"Last year I was a crazy maniac person," Retik says, explaining how she threw herself into a frenzy of activities to distract her from unyielding sorrow.

This year, life is calmer. Tears still flow, but she needs fewer boxes of tissues. Daughter Dina, born two months after the tragedy, is 18 months old, romping happily with 5-year-old Ben and 3-year-old Molly. Ben even designed the T-shirts for this year's run.

Marie Downey of Deer Park, N.Y., who lost her father, Deputy Fire Chief Raymond Downey, in the World Trade Center attack, offers a similar perspective. "Last year I was in a fog," she says in a phone conversation. "This year we're more focused."

Like Retik, Ms. Downey and her four siblings organized a Father's Day memorial 5K run last year, a tradition they are continuing this year. It serves as a tribute to their father and a way to thank the community for its support after Chief Downey died when the second tower collapsed. Ironically, he had written books on how to survive building collapses.

Downey expects Sunday's race, called "Forever Running," to draw an even larger crowd than it did last year, when nearly 1,000 people took part. Proceeds will benefit scholarship and charitable funds established in Chief Downey's name.

She speaks lovingly about the qualities her father expressed. "He worked three jobs to raise five kids. He didn't even get a chance to retire." Describing him as "very humble" and "very religious, very spiritual," she adds, "Everybody just loved him. He was the first person you'd call if you were in trouble. Neighborhood kids called him Uncle Ray. He always knew what to do."

After the run is finished, 19 members of their immediate family will gather at her mother's house. "We'll reminisce," Downey says. "We'll be together and know he's around us."

Some people who lost relatives may face unexpected challenges this Sunday, cautions Laurie Wurm, who leads a Sept. 11 support group at All Saints Episcopal Church in Hoboken, N.J.

"Last Father's Day, everything hadn't sunk in," she says. "Now it has." Denial has given way to reality and finality.

Memories can also appear unexpectedly. "You walk into a supermarket and you pass your partner's favorite kind of fruit," Ms. Wurm says. "Or their favorite song comes on the radio."

People outside the family, she finds, often expect those who are grieving to do so "in a linear way," growing steadily better each day. But Wurm sees grief as "kind of cyclical," explaining, "You have days where you feel really good, and days where you feel like you're back at square one. You do want to feel you have your new identity intact, standing on solid ground."

Page: 1 | 2 | 3