A boy, an Anniversary, and a Poem to Remember September by.

On September 11, 2001, I was at my mom's house cleaning out mine and my brothers old rooms, fixing them up for my son Gabe and I. We had been living with my mom for over a year by then, it just took me that long to accept my relationship with his dad was truly over and this was home. I was tiptoeing around the detritus of childhood that my brothers and I had left in the basement of mom and dad's. The day before I had stepped on a fishing hook, which embedded itself in my big toe, one stitch, one afternoon at the ER, and one Tetanus shot later I was back to cleaning. Gabe was helping in the way that a three year old helps, looking forward to a new room painted the apple green he had picked out - and looking forward most of all to the big boy bed we had put on lay-away the week before.

My mom yelled, "come here, you have to see this." in the sort of tone that conveys urgency and disbelief. She was watching the Today show, like we always did, and a plane had just flown into the World Trade Center. Seemingly by accident, but no, minutes later we all knew it was no accident. I sat like so many other people that day in fear and worry, wondering if anyone I knew had been hurt or killed. Fortunately not. To this day I wonder about a NYC fireman I had met on the way home from vacation a few weeks earlier, he was behind me in line at a Dunkin' Donuts in Massachusetts, a long line, the poor girl at the counter was having one of those days where everything that can go wrong does. He had the whole store in stitches, funny, outgoing guy, he diffused the grumpiness with a couple of one liners that I've long since forgotten. I never knew his name, I hope he is alive and well somerwhere making someone else smile on their bad day.

In the weeks that followed I watched my little boy build towers out of whatever toys he had at hand and knock them down. He learned the words to God Bless America and would sing it everywhere we went. He remembered the victims in his prayers and I struggled to answer the far too grown up questions about why people would do such a thing. Questions that segued into questions about war as he watched his cousin get ready to go to Iraq the following year. Ten years later he still has a lot of questions.

I hadn't thought he was paying attention to the anniversary, my teenager, who's just taller than me. I assumed his thoughts were occupied by more boyish pursuits, like eighth grade, girls, and video games. I was wrong, and once again I'm surprised and pleased by the compassion and depth of feeling he possesses for the world around him.

These are his words, his remembrance, and I send it out to world. A few days late on my part, but no less heartfelt for that:


To those who were lost this mourning day;
I'll take a moment to stand and say,
Your lives were certainly not lost in vain,
... Not even leaving eternal pain,
The towers fell across New York's face,
... Smoke and rubble all over the place,
but the lives that were lost, remember me,
We'll never forget the lives of thee.
9/11/11.

Gabe 9/11/11