For the family members of many 9/11 victims, regret will always be a heavy, oppressive weight. It seems impossible to stop wondering about what might have been, what should have been. Some people fixate on words that weren’t said, or on last-minute circumstances that had taken their loved ones to work earlier than usual. Sampath Pakkala can’t stop thinking about two things: one is the job his wife Deepa had and the other is what he should have done.

He wishes Deepa hadn’t been working at the World Trade Center that morning. But even before September 11, the demands of her job had been taking a toll on the family. "I didn’t like the timing she had," he said, speaking at his home-office in Stewartsville, New Jersey. "She was putting in too many hours. It was a pretty tough arrangement." He and Deepa had discussed alternate arrangements, including one where she would work part-time from home, freeing her up to take care of Trisha, their daughter.

But what consumes Sampath is that last year his company decided to shift some of its operations down south, to Virginia. He would have made the same six-figure income—his area is networking—in a part of the country cheaper to live in. He decided the shift wasn’t right for him, that he wanted a career change. "That’s been bothering me," he says, looking out of his window, "because she would have also been able to stay at home and work."

Sampath’s family has since moved in with him. His mother is in the kitchen, cooking, as his brother and father watch TV. Trisha’s silver anklets can be heard in the distance, as she runs from room to room. They are teaching her Kannada, English, as well as Tulu, a language spoken in parts of coastal Karnataka. One of her favourite songs is "Daddy’s Bangaru, Mummy’s Bangaru," or Daddy’s a Dear One, Mummy’s a Dear One.

Deepa had an evening routine for Trisha, holding her against her shoulder and singing Ba Ba Black Sheep until the baby fell asleep. "Now she sleeps with me. Every night I have to put her to sleep in the bed, then put her in the crib," he says, picking her up. "She’s very close to me."

His house is large. It sits in a community of similarly-sized homes, part of New Jersey’s booming suburbs. But clearly the work and time that went into building his home weigh upon him. "Deepa was very hard-working. She didn’t want anyone to have complaints against her. We didn’t have any time for ourselves in the process." It’s something he can’t retrieve.