Life goes on

For some children, this week brings challenges, too. Claudette Greene of Greenwich, Conn., who lost her husband, Donald, on Sept. 11 in the crash of United Airlines Flight 93, has two children, 11 and 8.

"Father's Day is a day they would prefer to have erased from the calendar, especially when they're asked in school to create special tokens for that day," Mrs. Greene says in an e-mail.

In the Boston area, two widows who, like Retik, were pregnant when their husbands died on Sept. 11, will join Retik in Sunday's run. Patti Quigley of Wellesley, Mass., gave birth to her second daughter a month after the tragedy, when her husband, Patrick, was killed in the crash of United Airlines Flight 175. Their baby, Leah, is now 19 months, and Rachel is 7.

Calling last Father's Day "traumatic," Mrs. Quigley says that she and the children are now doing well. But, she adds, "We're also learning to live with a certain sadness without Patrick around."

She often shows the girls family photos and tells them, "Daddy did this, and Daddy did that."

Haven Fyfe, of Brookline, Mass., learned the day before Sept. 11 that she was four weeks pregnant - news she happily shared with her husband, Karleton. He died the next day on Flight 11. Their baby, Parker, celebrated his first birthday last month. Her other son, Jackson, is 3 years old.

For her part, Mrs. Fyfe recalls last Father's Day as "excruciating" and "terrible." Attending Retik's Fun Run helped, offering a distraction and giving the day a focus. "It was a way of acknowledging my husband," she says.

This year everything feels different to her, and better.

"It feels like we're 'power women' out there," Fyfe says. "I've just conquered another year of figuring out not only parenting two children, but doing it on my own." That includes managing the family finances, which her husband had always handled.

Her son Jackson was only a year old when his father was killed and has no memory of him.

"I try and talk about Daddy a lot, but he can't really even pick him out of a picture," Fyfe says. "The concept of Daddy in our house is very confusing. They'll figure it out one day."

Those who have made progress in the past year in dealing with grief say that the support they have received from families, friends, and communities has been essential. "This is not a process you can do alone," Retik says. She and others find that the passage of time helps, too.

As Retik puts the finishing touches on details for Sunday's race and walk, she reflects on the past year. Noting that her children are fine, she says, "I do think I've done a good job of keeping life normal and consistent. I still take them to the circus. We go to soccer and gymnastics."

For herself, there are karate classes three or four times a week, an activity she calls a lifesaver and a needed outlet. Every other week, she attends a support group for 9/11 families.

Retik and Quigley are also establishing a foundation to help women in Afghanistan.

Still, some aspects of life have grown more difficult.

"Dave seems so distant in some ways," she says softly. "It seems a lifetime ago. I can't even imagine being married. On the other hand, I can make my brain think it was 30 seconds ago."

Sometimes she finds comfort in listening to a recording of his voice on her computer. But, she adds, "It makes me incredibly sad that it's harder to conjure up the whole idea of Dave being part of my life. I'm a single married person. What is that? I feel married. But I don't want to be alone."

Still, on this late spring afternoon, as birds sing in the backyard and a dog barks in the distance, Retik looks at her young family and smiles.

"In general, everything's gotten easier," she says as the children gather around the kitchen table, nibbling carrots. "We're in a routine. Before, I had a feeling we'd be OK. Now I know we're OK."

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