Devora Kirschner had only been married to Lt. Darin Pontell for six months when he was killed in the Sept. 11 attack on the Pentagon 25 years ago.
Pontell, 26 at the time, had been working as an intelligence officer in the Navy when American Airlines Flight 77 crashed into the Pentagon. A Columbia native, Pontell was one of 69 Maryland residents killed in the attacks.
“It seems like forever, but then I can quickly bring myself back to that time and have it feel like just yesterday,” Kirschner said this week.
It’s been 25 years since the terror attacks that flew two passengers jets into the World Trade Center and one into the Pentagon, and crashed a fourth into a field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania, when the passengers tried to wrest control back from the hijackers. In that time, Kirschner worries that the unified support that existed between people at the time has dissipated.
She finds it disrespectful that people, specifically on social media, continue to fuel conspiracy theories about the attacks, when family members and friends of victims are still grieving their loved ones.
Combating these notions is what pushes her to continue talking about Pontell, supporting the Naval Academy and creating awards in his name. Kirschner had known Pontell since they were both in the sixth grade, and she continues to see his family regularly today.
“The further away you are, it doesn’t resonate as much,” Kirschner said. “I want people to have that understanding and have a connection … we all suffered because so many good people were lost that day.”
Basmattie Bishundat said she kept the faith when she heard of the attack on the Pentagon, where her son, Romeo Bishundat, was working as an information technician officer in the Navy. She had been on the phone with him earlier that morning and despite being unable to reach him by phone afterward, she said she was still hopeful he would come home.
Romeo, who grew up in Waldorf, had been working in the Pentagon’s Naval Operations Telecommunications Center since April 2001. He would have turned 24 just a few days later, on Sept. 14.
“I don’t even know how I’ve survived 25 years without my child,” Bishundat said. “The pain I’ve been through … I don’t know how much more a heart could take.”
As Bishundat looks back on the last 25 years, she said she feels there’s outdated information and not enough educational resources circulating about the attacks anymore. The new generations of kids who weren’t alive and don’t understand the implications of the attack deserve to learn from those who were there, she said.
Sharon and Alan Linton Sr. of Frederick echoed that sentiment. Their son, Alan Linton Jr., was working as an income analyst on floor 102 of the World Trade Center’s South Tower that day. They wish there was the same level of awareness and unification now as there was in the immediate years after, especially for younger generations.
“Fifteen years ago, I think everybody knew about it,” Sharon said. “Somewhere along the line, the school system decided it wasn’t necessary to recognize that day.”
Alan had called his parents minutes after American Airlines Flight 11 crashed into the North Tower to let them know he was safe. As United Airlines Flight 175 struck the South tower he was in, his parents continued to call, but heard no word back from him. Sharon, Alan Sr. and several of their family members drove to the city to search for him the morning after, in hopes that he was alive and in a hospital somewhere.
They held a “celebration of life” about a month after the attack, though officials hadn’t identified more than a few of his remains and didn’t confirm his death until nine months after. Sharon and Alan Sr. organized a funeral about five years later, when officials said they wouldn’t be able to identify any other body parts.
They later helped to partially fund the creation of an emergency center named after their son at Beyond Shelter, a homeless shelter in Frederick, as a way of supporting a cause Alan Jr. felt passionate about.
The pair doesn’t always do something special for Sept. 11 but said their family typically gets together for a meal at Outback Steakhouse – Alan’s favorite restaurant in Frederick at the time – on his birthday.
“There are very, very few days that we don’t discuss him in some ways,” Sharon said. “Alan loved food, and when we eat his favorites, we think about him, talk about him.”
Bishundat said she’s changed since Romeo’s death and strives to take after his outgoing, “playful” personality. She has grown to accept the situation and release her grief, though there have been days in the past 25 years where it’s been difficult to do so.
No matter the amount of time that has passed, families will always be emotionally affected by their losses, Bishundat added.
“If it’s a mother, if it’s a sibling, everybody is living a nightmare, a roller coaster, a tsunami,” Bishundat said. “It’s just different stages, different days.”