
 
        
         
		9/11: 20 YEARS LATER 
 20 years on, children of 9/11 still grieve 
 BY KIRSTYN BRENDLEN 
 Olivia Vilardi-Perez signs  
 her name just like her father,  
 Anthony. 
 Anthony died on 9/11,  
 when Vilardi-Perez was ten  
 years old, one of more than 600  
 Cantor  Fitzgerald  employees  
 working on the top fl oors  of  
 the north tower that morning.  
 Years later, in college, Vilardi- 
 Perez decided to get his signature  
 tattooed. 
 “I  gave  the  tattoo  artist  
 the signature off of his will,  
 which was morbid enough as  
 it is,” she said. “And he’s like,  
 alright, I just need you to sign  
 this  paperwork.  So  I’m  signing, 
   and  he  goes  ‘You  understand  
 you sign your name just  
 like your father, right?’” 
 “It was very special, very  
 weird.” 
 It took years for Vilardi- 
 Perez to get comfortable talking  
 about her father, she said.  
 In the aftermath of his death,  
 she felt like she had to be the  
 “rock” of the family, trying to  
 stay calm and strong when her  
 relatives were struggling. 
 “My uncle was getting married  
 September  1,  2002,”  she  
 said. “I was supposed to walk  
 down the aisle with my dad.  
 The day of the wedding, my  
 uncle was really struggling  
 with  that.  I  just  felt  the  need  
 to be the rock. I didn’t want  
 to bring my dad up to anyone  
 because it would make them  
 upset, and I’d just feel upset  
 when  other  people  were  crying  
 or experiencing pain.” 
 Anthony and Vilardi-Perez’s  
 mother  were  divorced,  
 and she lived primarily with  
 her mother, spending some  
 weekends with her father, stepmother, 
  and two half-siblings.  
 She was old enough when he  
 passed  to  remember him, but  
 young enough that those memories  
 are hazy. 
 “Twenty years later, sometimes, 
  you’re stuck wondering  
 if it’s a real memory, if  
 it’s a dream, if it’s something  
 you made  up  to  feel  closer  to  
 him,” she said. “There are  
 a few things I know about  
 my  dad.  My  dad  loved  video  
 games, which he 100 percent  
 has passed on to me. He loved  
 ‘Star Wars,’ which he passed  
 on to my brother and I. And he  
 was just a jokester.” 
 Hearing stories about him  
 as an adult, she said, is special.  
 They’re not the kinds of stories  
 friends and family would have  
 told to her as a child, and they  
 reveal parts of him she doesn’t  
 think she would have appreciated  
 as a kid, including parts  
 of him she sees refl ected in herself. 
 Now a high school science  
 teacher, Vilardi-Perez said  
 she’s always been the kind of  
 person to put herself second to  
 help other people, something  
 her father was always doing.  
 When  someone  is  having  a  
 hard time, she’ll do anything to  
 make them laugh. 
 “To hear the love that he felt  
 for me, I don’t think I can explain  
 the gravity of that,” she  
 said. “It’s always nice to hear  
 the lovely stories, but when  
 things were bad for him, his  
 main concerns were me and his  
 children.  It  just  goes  to  show  
 you how great of a person he  
 truly, truly was.” 
 The only person in her  
 school who had lost a parent  
 on 9/11, Vilardi-Perez was frustrated  
 by the way people treated  
 COURIER LIFE, S A2     EPTEMBER 10-16, 2021 
 her – like she was fragile. 
 She got involved with Tuesday’s  
 Children, a nonprofi t  organization  
 founded  in  2001  to  
 support children and families  
 who lost someone on 9/11. Even  
 now, she’s still meeting new  
 people through the organization, 
  making connections with  
 those who have experienced the  
 same grief. 
 Sara Wingerath-Schlanger,  
 senior program director at  
 Tuesday’s Children, is still  
 working to expand the mentorship  
 program the organization  
 has implemented to match  
 grieving family members with  
 someone who could help them  
 through their loss long-term. 
 The average age of children  
 of victims on 9/11 was eight or  
 nine, Wingerath-Schlanger  
 said, so they’ve served a wide  
 range of ages as those children  
 grew up and needed support.  
 “No matter how old you  
 were, if you were a child, you  
 will re-grieve,” she said. “At  
 different milestones, at different  
 developmental stages. The  
 big ones, like graduation and  
 walking down the aisle, and  
 the small ones like I’m walking  
 down the street and I smell my  
 dad’s cologne.” 
 Of  the  nearly  3,000  people  
 who died on 9/11, 266 were  
 Brooklyn  residents.  In  the  
 two decades since the attacks,  
 fi rst responders and those who  
 worked  at Ground  Zero  in  the  
 weeks and months following  
 have continued to get sick and  
 pass  away  from  health  conditions  
 they developed on the  
 site. 
 Many children were too  
 young on 9/11 to remember the  
 parent they lost. 108 women  
 who lost partners that day were  
 pregnant, and their children  
 never met their fathers. 
 “Some kids feel like, ‘I was  
 so little, I don’t have memories,  
 or I was born after,’” Wingerath 
 Schlanger said. “And how  
 does that make them feel, and  
 how do they walk through this  
 world fi guring  that  out.  And  
 those that have memories and  
 are able to say to themselves ‘I  
 can feel the void.’” 
 Vilardi-Perez and her  
 younger sister struggled with  
 their memories of Anthony. 
 “I think her and I held resentment  
 toward each other for  
 too long,” she said. “I resented  
 her because she lived with him.  
 I didn’t live with him. And she  
 resented me because I had the  
 memory.” 
 The physical distance between  
 Vilardi-Perez and her  
 father means that a lot of her  
 memories with him were in the  
 small moments they shared together. 
 “We were watching a movie,  
 the movie ‘Face/Off,’ and he’d  
 be like, ‘Don’t look, don’t look,  
 it’s gory!’” she said. “And he’d  
 put his hand over my eyes, but  
 leave just that little crack that if  
 I just wanted to look, I could. But  
 I don’t do gore. I never looked.” 
 Grieving her father isn’t  
 linear. Every year, the anniversary  
 is “an impossible grip  
 around your heart, around  
 your throat,” she said. Daily  
 life got easier, but milestones  
 – even the bad ones — are still  
 diffi cult. 
 “I went through a really  
 tough breakup recently, and I  
 just remember saying ‘My dad  
 would kill him. No doubt about  
 it, my dad would kill him,’”  
 she said. “He would buy me a  
 drink, or he would help me, or  
 he would guide me.” 
 Some of her best friends lost  
 fathers who were fi refi ghters,  
 she said, and the fi rehouse door  
 is always open when they need  
 support. 
 “I am extremely envious of  
 that,” she said. “I wish I had  
 something like that..” 
 She pours that grief and the  
 long journey through it into  
 teaching, she said. Every year  
 she starts out telling her students  
 about her father’s death  
 and the way she struggled  
 through it. She’s upfront about  
 her mental health and the help  
 she needed as she got older. 
 “I  have  students  who  face  
 horrible things, that no child  
 should  ever  have  to  face,”  she  
 said. “And to have a teacher  
 standing in front of them, who,  
 I’m not going to say I’m fi ne, but  
 I’m doing OK — who can make  
 it through that, I think that’s a  
 really important thing.” 
 Anthony Perez was killed in the 9/11 attacks, leaving behind three children, including daughter Olivia Vilardi- 
 Perez. Perez was one of more than 600 Cantor Fitzgerald employees who died that day.  
   Voices 9/11 Living Memorial