Every morning, on 9/11, it has become a heavy, somber tradition, just it has for millions across the country and the world – to sit and watch on television as the names of those who lost their lives on that black day are read aloud by family members and loved ones whose lives are forever marked by unspeakable loss.
Just as it was on that horrible morning 14 years ago, it is impossible to turn away from that screen, from watching the bright, smiling faces, forever frozen in time, on the missing posters and flyers.
A seemingly endless sea of mothers and daughters, fathers and sons, uncles and aunts, daughters and sons, friends and lovers, fiances and grandparents, who would never again be wrapped in the joyful embrace of their families.
Who will never get to hug their babies, laugh at the beach, dance at weddings, sing to silly songs on the radio, see dreams realized or goals achieved. See their kids graduate from college or watch their wife’s hair grow gray with age after a life lived in love, together.
For most, all it was meant to be was another day at work. Did they kiss their families good-bye that morning, or did they go off to work quietly, not wanting to wake a pregnant wife, only days away from giving birth to her fourth baby?
Another day at work. Likely, they packed up briefcases and purses with paperwork and newspapers, donned their business suits and heels, running off to hop onto the subway or the Long Island Rail Road or into the car for a hectic morning commute on the beautifully blue September morning. Maybe they were reflecting on a Sunday spent at the beach that weekend, of how they’d have to juggle the day’s schedule make it home in times for their son’s first soccer practice.
None of them could ever have, in their darkest of dreams, imagined that they would never be going home again.
Did they greet the coffee guy as they grabbed a danish? Joke with colleagues around an office cooler? Did they call home to see if their little ones were ready for their first days of Pre-K?
All they were doing was the right thing, showing up for work on time, providing for their families and following the path to a bright future their parents had helped pave for them — when a plan of pure evil sent those planes crashing into the glorious Twin Towers and took it all away.
The stories, the memories, the laughter, the love, all stolen that morning in a horrific act of terrorism that took not only lives, but the innocence of a nation and those not even yet born.
Listening to families of the lost, voices today are still broken, tears still fall furiously as they read the names of those they will love forever. For those left behind, 14 years is only a heartbeat.
It’s clear with the words they murmur softly, as they read the long list of names: To a daughter, “You were the light of my life.” To an uncle, “I wish I could have met you.” To a brother, “We think of you with every note of music that we hear and especially when we look at your gorgeous daughters.”
And then, to a husband, “I know you would do the same, stand here for me. You were loving, caring person taken from your son.” To a cousin, “You are loved and missed daily.” To a father, “We miss you and we love you, each and every day.” To a husband, news that a daughter has grown up, gotten a fine job, that a son has graduated with honor from his father’s university, “walking the same steps you did. There wasn’t a person you met who didn’t want to keep you in their lives forever. You were our hero and the first responder to all our needs. Our world will never be the same without you.”
To a father, “If I had one wish in the world, it would be to meet my dad.”
Together, they echoed, again and again, “God bless the first responders.”
Because surely, there must be a special place in heaven for those brave firefighters and police who ran not away from the carnage, but into what is surely the closest our nation has ever come to the living, breathing, raging inferno of hell, doing what they do best — trying to save lives.
One firefighter interviewed this morning said he and his buddies were out for a day of golf when they heard the news and headed straight back to the firehouse. “We wanted to save people who were hurt. Trapped. And we’d do it again,” he said.
They’d do it again. Those words are at the heart of what our first responders here on the North Fork believe and demonstrate, every single time they race out to a fire car or to the scene of a devastating car crash.
Unlike those who worked in the Twin Towers, who headed off to their last day of life unaware of the horror that would unfold, those first responders did know.
And they went, anyway.
They saw the smoke, heard the screams for help, and knew that by heading into the eye of the storm, there was a very real chance that they, too, would die that day, that they’d leave behind young children, adoring wives and beloved parents. But they ran, anyway, up long flights of stairs, desperate to grab a hand reaching out for help, intent on saving the trapped, the terrified, the lost. Of infusing hope into despair.
Every day, our first responders take those same risks. They run into burning buildings, battle chemical fires, race to the scenes of crashes where the loss is far greater than what one can comprehend. They do it, to keep the community safe, to give our children a safe place to live.
For that, no words of thanks seem big enough to encompass the gratitude.
My friend Andrew Jordan was a firefighter who left his home in Speonk and went to cover a shift for a friend. He wasn’t supposed to be working. He never came home. And he never saw his baby Sean, who was born only days later. Today, I thank him, and all his brothers, firefighters near and far, who would do just as he did, in a selfless act of pure, shining courage.
He was doing what he’d taught his children was most important: To live a life of honor. And to be the one to count on, when the world was crumbling.
Tonight, North Fork firefighters will gather for a remembrance ceremony at Cochran Park from 5 to 7 p.m., with a ceremony at 6 p.m. On the way home from a busy day, gather up your children and bring them tonight, to place a flag. To remember the many who never got the privilege of picking their little ones up from school 14 years ago today, who never saw their newborn babies grow into young adults.
Join the firefighters tonight at Cochran Park, and thank them for the risks they take every day, to keep us safe, and our beautiful flag waving proudly.
