Husband Sampath Pakkala and daughter on Deepa, 33

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

He wishes Deepa hadn’t been working at the World Trade Center that morning. Buteven 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 inStewartsville, New Jersey. "She was putting in too many hours. It was a pretty tougharrangement." He and Deepa had discussed alternate arrangements, including one whereshe 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 itsoperations down south, to Virginia. He would have made the same six-figure income—hisarea is networking—in a part of the country cheaper to live in. He decided the shiftwasn’t right for him, that he wanted a career change. "That’s beenbothering me," he says, looking out of his window, "because she would have alsobeen 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 inthe distance, as she runs from room to room. They are teaching her Kannada, English, aswell as Tulu, a language spoken in parts of coastal Karnataka. One of her favourite songsis "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 singingBa Ba Black Sheep until the baby fell asleep. "Now she sleeps with me. Every night Ihave to put her to sleep in the bed, then put her in the crib," he says, picking herup. "She’s very close to me."

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