9/11

Anyone over a certain age remembers exactly where he or she was twelve years ago today. We remember the weather here in the New York area -- unbelievably beautiful blue skies, no humidity, a feeling of fall crispness in the air.

And then we remember the cacophony of pictures coming across our televisions.  How to make sense of the burning buildings, the people jumping, the smoke, the ash? The people who walked, looking like zombies, the empty field with a huge hole in it. We witnessed mass murder.

Some people were closer to it than others, of course. My sister was eight weeks pregnant at the time, her son just a toddler.  She was at her home, fifteen minutes from mine, and by the middle of the afternoon, or maybe it was that evening, she called me to tell me Mike was missing.

Her husband's name is Mike.

It took me a few minutes to realize that she meant her friend Mike Davidson, a young man she had known her entire life. He had recently gotten engaged, had bought his first home.  He was working at Cantor Fitzgerald, and he was among the dozens in their offices above the fire with no means of escape. We will never know if he died of smoke inhalation, (which I hope for) or whether he died as the tower tumbled to its base.  His body was never recovered.

I was worried that my sister would miscarry from the stress over the next few days. She faced rumors that he had been spotted, she watched for him to come back, but he never did.  A few weeks later, then visibly pregnant, she went to his memorial service. She insisted on going alone.

He used to call her every year on her birthday.  He worked two jobs to save money for his house and his new life.  He was always smiling and happy.  He left behind his fiancee, his mother, and his brother. And friends. And people who knew him. And people who knew people who knew him.

I watch the coverage every year, to hear his name, to see his picture as they read it. I expect it now, his name, but I'm always still a little surprised when it's read.  I watch the specials about 9/11, and I know it happened, but it still seems less than real. Then my sister posts Mike's picture on her Facebook account, and his name is read, and it is real. He died. He died a horrible death.  So many people did. Never forget.