The hurt lingers for the families of terrorist victims

"When you were 7 years old, I moved in with you and your family. What good times we had." -- from a letter that Ruth Lillie of Winston-Salem wrote in 2002 to the memory of her niece, Judith Lawter Jones, who was killed in the Sept. 11 attacks on the Pentagon.

Ruth Lillie of Winston-Salem has never really left the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11 behind. She thinks about all its big ripple effects. But mostly, she thinks about the niece she lost, Judith Lawter "Judy" Jones. "We were just close," Lillie, who's in her 70s, said last week.

For those of us who didn't lose family or friends in the attacks, their seventh anniversary Thursday won't be much different from any other day. But for Lillie and many others who endured the loss of loved ones, the terrible mix of emotions that they might experience on any given day will come flooding back big-time. The pride, the grief, the loneliness. The hunger for justice. And, of course, the memories of the lost.

Lillie grew up in Winston-Salem. She got a job as a secretary and moved in with her sister's family in Alexandria, Va., in the mid-1950s. There, she got to know her niece, Judy Jones. Lillie taught her Sunday school, and she taught her how to swim. She probably taught her niece a lot about character, although Lillie would never say that.

"There was never anything phony about you. You did not talk a lot, but when you did, I could always depend on your honesty. You had deep feelings and compassion for people and their problems, You could quickly tell the difference between a real need and a fake. In other words -- you had class!

"When I got married and left your home, you were 14 years old. However, we kept in touch and there is a bond between us … When we (Lillie and her husband) moved to North Carolina, I remember our goodbyes. You said that I had been a big influence in your life. I did not know that you had been watching." -- the letter.

Lillie is quick to say that her sister, who died in 1995, was a good mother to Judy. And Lillie clearly adored her role as an aunt.

Judy Jones, a civilian, worked for years as a computer analyst at the Pentagon for the Navy. "She had a really good job," Lillie said.

Jones married and raised a daughter.

Through letters, phone calls and occasional visits, Jones and her aunt stayed close. Lillie, who never had children of her own, was beside herself as the first news of the attacks broke that day in 2001. She finished tutoring a child for her church, glued herself to the TV and tried in vain to call her niece.

"On Sept. 12 at 2:30 a.m. while I was watching TV, I got so cold I began to shake and my teeth were chattering. I thought I would have to go to the emergency room. It lasted about 10 minutes and then I got real warm and it seems a peace came over me. Was that you, Judy, telling me goodbye?" -- the letter.

Lillie knew Jones had been killed, although official confirmation wouldn't come until days later.

Lillie's grief was almost unbearable. Her husband had died in 1999. "I think I could have managed better if my husband had lived," she said.

"Grief is cumulative. When one thing happens to you, all the other stuff comes back."

She kept thinking back to the days before the attacks. She remembered she had a dream she couldn't understand, something about her being in a desert. There were Arabs and a fire, she said.

But she can't make sense of the dream, nor has she been able to make sense of much of what's happened since the attacks, including the Iraq war. "I want to bring those troops home," she said. "There were no Iraqis in 9-11."

Lillie wants to see whoever was really responsible for the attacks held accountable.

This week at the Pentagon, officials will dedicate a memorial to those killed there.

Lillie's not going. She doesn't think she could handle the crowd. She does plan a trip there later this month.

"I'd rather go by myself , you know?" she asked.

I nodded my head as if I understood. To a point, anyway. But Lillie, like so many others who lost loved ones in the attacks, is all alone in her grief.

"It's like it's a bitterness, like there's something unfinished," she said.

"It has been so sad since you left … I try real hard, but it is so hard not to be able to wish you Happy Birthday this year. You would have been 54 years old …" -- the letter.

■ John Railey writes editorials for the Journal. He can be reached at jrailey@wsjournal.com.