Of loss on 9/11

Fourteen years ago, I recall hearing the news about the World Trade Center and other attacks. I remember walking into religion class thinking about all those who had lost their loved ones.

Moments later I recalled that Dad took the PATH train that morning. And that he said goodbye to me, meaning he was later to work than usual. I had a few hours of fear and then learned he was ok, but it was nearly a week before I was able to lay eyes on him, or before he came home.

Dad would rarely talk about 9/11 and the effect it had on him. I know he took his employees to safety, kept distributing water, and that he slept under his desk that night three blocks away, again so he could work at a moment’s notice.

I also think of his recollection of walking out on the streets of lower Manhattan on September 12th and the sad, eerie vacancy that stretched before him.

Fourteen years later, we brought my Dad to his final resting place. I am grateful for every moment of time that I had with him, both before and after.

I wish I had better words on a momentous day, but I don’t. They will come, but for right now I will honor the memory of my Dad and all who have gone before him.

Let peace reign. For this, we need.

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