A mother’s grief

Some 3,000 people were killed in the terrorist attacks of September 11th. One of them was Peter Goodrich. He was on the second plane that crashed into the World Trade Center. Peter was 33 years old. His parents were devastated. But they found a way to honor their son’s life. Peter’s mother, Sally Goodrich, raised money to build a school for girls in Afghanistan’s Logar Province. She’s also taken three exchange students from Afghanistan into her home. Last month, Sally Goodrich journeyed from Bennington, Vermont to the school she helped create. The Boston Globe’s Charles Sennott went with her.

Sennott: It’s just after Easter, sugaring season in Vermont. The taps in the maple grove are beginning to flow behind the home of Sally Goodrich and her husband.

Goodrich: “Our job is to check if there is any sap, maybe this afternoon will be a little bit more”

Sennott: Sally Goodrich is at home out here in the woods. But now she’s preparing for a journey, one far from these hills. Goodrich is about to fly to Afghanistan. She’ll visit the school that her son, Peter, inspired. Goodrich attended the dedication last year. This will be her first chance to see the school in session. But Goodrich is going at a bad time. Spring time in Afghanistan means fighting, and the Taliban offensive is under way. Some of the students at Goodrich’s school have been getting death threats and some nearby schools have been burned. In the puritanical mindset of the Taliban, schools are not for girls.

Goodrich: “I think this is probably the most dangerous time that I will be going. It is questionable whether or not I will actually get there. I certainly don’t want to do any thing to endanger the children … So, yeah, I am concerned.”

Sennott: Still, the next day Goodrich boards a plane in New York. She touches down in Kabul on Friday, the 13th. She is accorded a hero’s welcome. Friends from the Afghan aid agency that processes the funding for Goodrich’s school greet her at the airport. Families of the three exchange students who live with Goodrich also turn out. A meal has been prepared to celebrate her arrival. Traditional Pashtun musicians from the Logar Province, where the school is, perform.

photo: Jean Chung

Sennott: But even amid the festivities Goodrich can see worry on the faces of her Afghan friends. The mother of one of the exchange students in Goodrich’s home tells a terrifying tale. The woman and her family had received death threats from the Taliban in southern Afghanistan. She’d been attacked while walking to the school where she taught English. She was told she’d be killed for her work and for sending her daughter to America for an education. Her family resettled in Kabul. Goodrich’s Afghan colleagues urge her to reconsider her trip to the Logar Province. Goodrich acknowledges the dangers, but presses ahead.

Goodrich: “I think we are all taking a risk, but the children going to school are taking a risk.”

Sennott: Goodrich sets out for the Logar Province with two armed guards and a lead vehicle. The convoy makes its way past checkpoints where roadside bombs are a threat. The vehicles go past cemeteries in the rocky hillsides. Green flags mark the graves of those who have died in 30 years of war. The terrain feels ominous, but Goodrich goes on. The school has become a way for her to find meaning in her life and in her son’s death.

Peter Goodrich: courtesy of Peter M Goodrich Memorial Foundation

But the journey to find that meaning began amid the rubble of the World Trade Center in 2001. In the depths of that moment, Goodrich never believed she’d feel Peter’s spirit again. He stood 6-2 and weighed 230-pounds. But he was a gentle soul. He was endlessly curious about the great questions in life. Sally Goodrich and her husband struggled over how to honor Peter’s spirit. Then in 2004 they got the answer.

Goodrich: “We received an e-mail from Peter’s childhood friend, who was a Marine Major in Afghanistan, he volunteered for duty here …”

Sennott: Marine Major Rush Filson’s email described a meeting with a village leader. The Afghan man had told Filson that the only thing his village needed was school supplies. Filson thought of Peter’s mother, a teacher, and asked for help.

Goodrich: “I knew that Peter’s would have responded to that e-mail. And as soon as I responded I felt Peter’s presence in my life. And not until that moment did I feel I was on Peter’s path or journey.”

Sennott: Sally Goodrich and her husband call it “The moment of grace.”

Goodrich: “From that point forward, a transformation occurred in our lives.. and suffering is the bridge … It is Afghans who taught me more about suffering and put our suffering in context …”

Sennott: At this point Goodrich’s convoy turns off the main road and up a dirt path toward the school. It’s set in a green valley surrounded by snow-capped peaks. Some girls are already outside playing. Others emerge from the school. They see Goodrich and come running. They take her by the hand.

Goodrich: “Good to see everybody! Salam Aleikum.”
Sennott: Goodrich is greeted on the school’s front steps by the principal.
Principal: “We are very happy that you are back.”
Goodrich: “We are very happy to be back!”

photo: Jean Chung

Sennott: The school is buzzing. Five hundred girls are in 26 classrooms on two floors. They are dressed in modest black uniforms with white head scarves. The principal takes Goodrich to this classroom. The students, who speak Pashto, are practicing Dari. That’s the other official language of Afghanistan.

Sennott: In another classroom, students work on their handwriting … on the chalk board. The principal then guides Goodrich down the hallway to her office. A visitor is waiting. Haji Malik is the village elder. He has three daughters who attend the school. And he believes grils’ education is an important part of the country’s future. But in this province, security is the main concern. … The Taliban have distributed hundreds of so-called “night letters,” written threats to families of girls who attend school. Goodrich asks the village elder about them…

Goodrich: “A week before I came here I read about night letters being circulated in Logar and I was wondering what Haji Malik and other are doing to provide security?”

Sennott: Haji Malik assures Goodrich that the village is committed to the school and to its safety. The principal nods her head in agreement.

Haji Malik: photo: Jean Chung

Sennott: There’s a glass cabinet in the office. A framed photograph of Peter stands inside it. There is also a Koran, the Muslim holy book that Peter studied after college. Sally Goodrich pulls it from the shelf.

Goodrich: “I love this, this is the same version of Peter’s Koran. His Koran was loaded with book darts where he had questions or observations to make.

Sennott: Peter would put small, dart shaped markers among the sura, or chapters, that struck him. After Peter’s death, his mother studied the passages her son had marked.

Sally Goodrich: photo: Jean Chung

Goodrich: “I love the first sura, if I can just find it. In the name of Allah, most gracious, ever merciful … Guide us along the straight path
Those who have not gone astray.”

Sennott: Peter loved that sura, as well. He had intellectually engaged the Koran. He had pondered the same words of the prophet that the hijackers would so perversely distort in the 9-11 attacks.

There is a silence in the office. The principal reaches over and takes Goodrich’s hand. She always prays for Miss Sally, as she put it, for her success and for her son Peter for peace of his soul. They always pray for him, she says.

The words stop Goodrich. She pauses for a moment and tears well in her eyes.

A few students look on and seem on the verge of tears themselves. But they break the silence by grabbing Goodrich by th hand and pulling her away. They take her into a classroom where they decorate her hands with the natural die, henna. Goodrich emerges with laughter in her eyes again. The school day is about to end. The school bell is a rusted tank part that hangs from a frayed rope. The school guard bangs a rock against the metal. The girls bound down the stairs to the school yard to say goodbye to Goodrich:

Goodrich: “Bye , bye everybody, thank you.”
Students: “Thank you.”
Goodrich: “I love you.”
Students: “I love you.”
Goodrich: Sally: “I will miss you , oh, I will think of you all every day”

photo: Jean Chung

Sennott: The girls surround Sally Goodrich. One of them drapes a blue, silk burkha over Goodrich’s head. It is the full-body covering that the Taliban ordered for women and girls. Goodrich has fun with the moment. She spins amid the children. The burkha catches on a breeze and it seems as if Goodrich has wings. Then it’s time to leave.

Goodrich: “I hate to leave. Oh my gosh, this country has to stay safe.

Students shouting….

Goodrich: “Yes! The future leaders of Afghanistan. We have to hope for the good.”

Sennott: Goodrich leaves Afghanistan with that hope restored. As she heads home to Vermont, she vows to return here again …

For the World, I’m Charles Sennott. The Logar Province. Afghanistan.

Read Charles Senott’s story in the Boston Globe Magazine

Peter M. Goodrich Memorial Foundation