Life goes on

"Good days and bad days" is the way Judy Troy describes life without her husband, Willie, who was killed at the Pentagon on Sept. 11. A retired Army staff sergeant, he worked there as a civilian program analyst. The Troys were high school sweethearts who had been married 30 years.

For Mrs. Troy, of Fayetteville, N.C., little has changed since last Father's Day. She describes her workdays as a budget analyst at Fort Bragg as "usually pretty good." The hardest moment comes at 8 p.m., "the time his key was always turning in the door." She would have dinner waiting, and the couple would talk about the day's activities.

When their daughter, ReNee, was growing up, Father's Day was "a big deal around our house, observed as though it was Christmas all over again," Troy recalls. ReNee made cards, and they bought gifts.

"She was a daddy's girl," Troy continues. "She and I were always close, but there was that daddy thing. Now I don't know what to say to her sometimes. I know she's hurting, but she's a strong young woman."

This Sunday, Troy, with her 10-year-old granddaughter, Jasmine, will place a flower on her husband's grave, as they did last year. They have a house in the country outside Whiteville, N.C., and he is buried behind it, near a pond. "It's so peaceful there," she says quietly.

For her daughter, ReNee Troy-Mebane, a business manager at a bank in Charlotte, N.C., Sunday will be a day of reflection. She recalls the happy times she and her father spent fishing, shopping, and talking.

She also remembers with fondness the Mighty Mouse mugs she and her third-grade classmates painted for Father's Day. But alas, her father put his in the dishwasher, and the colors ran. Even so, he kept it as a memento of his daughter's love.

Now, all these Father's Days later, the mug remains in her mother's home, a reminder of the close relationship that existed between a doting father and his only child.

Acutely aware of her father's absence, Ms. Troy-Mebane is making a point this week of telling friends and colleagues to call their fathers on Sunday.

"I'm like the reminder police," she says with a laugh.

Then, growing serious, she adds, "It's not promised that there'll be another Father's Day for you to even speak to your dad or send him a card. You just have to take advantage of every opportunity you have to spend with your family members, or tell them you love them."

Troy-Mebane also derives peace from knowing that she and her father left nothing unresolved. "I don't have any regrets or anything I wish I had said or done," she says. She urges others not to hold grudges or leave arguments unsettled.

"The best way you could celebrate Father's Day is to let all of that go. You may never have a chance to make it right. You plan for tomorrow, but make sure you live for today."

Fathers who lost an adult child on Sept. 11 will also confront memories and emotions this Sunday. Matt Sellitto's 23-year-old son, Matthew, was the youngest victim at Cantor Fitzgerald, on the 105th floor of the World Trade Center. Asked if this Father's Day will be easier than last year, Mr. Sellitto, of Harding Township, N.J., replies firmly, "No. Not even a little bit."

He and his wife and their younger son will observe the day as they always did with Matthew. They will attend church, then play golf and have dinner.

"He'll be with us the whole day," Sellitto says on the phone, his voice breaking. The family scattered ashes from ground zero on the 12th green at their golf club, in honor of Matthew.

"He loved that hole so much," Sellitto explains.

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