Friday, September 11, 2009


My daughter (then a bit less than two) napping in her playpen I was dozing on the couch. One of the detriments of being a family where both parents have to work is that you catch sleep where and when you can. I was woken by the ringing of the phone. It was my wife calling from work to ask me of all things "do you have the tv on?". After collecting my wits and putting on the television I focused my eyes just enough to catch the second airliner hitting the tower. I told her to come home from work right away.

It was a scary day here in my hometown where we can see the Manhattan skyline. It was a somber day on the 12th when I spent a twenty four hour shift at ground zero. I don't feel comfortable sharing very much of my experience. I think it cheapens the pain and loss experienced by those directly affected by the loss.

Time is a funny thing. Sometimes its passage makes us forget the terror and pain of a memory as it becomes more distant. Yet reminders of that day still persist. Witnessing both of my neices First Holy Communion in the last few years I saw many kids escorted to the altar by only a mother. You see, the town where my brother settled lost many a Dad when the towers came down.

Families and friends of the heroes who ran in while others ran out still bear the pain of that dreadful day. No doubt they will carry that cross all the days of their lives.

Merciful God, grant them eternal peace. Grant their family and friends the strength to realize that they will someday be reunited with their loved ones. Grant our Nation the strength to never forget.

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