More than 20 years have passed, but I still remember every detail of what happened on September 11, 2001.
When I was 15 years old and a sophomore in high school, there was an announcement in geometry class that a plane had crashed into the North Tower of the World Trade Center. The girl in front of me started crying.
But even though I knew my father worked on the 104th floor of the South Tower, he was too busy consoling a classmate who was escorted to the guidance and counseling room, so I didn’t worry. I was told that my mother’s parents had picked up my sister Jessica (now 26) and my brother Matthew (24) and were on their way home to take us home.
The rest of the day was a whirlwind.
While I was being allowed to watch live action on TV, my brothers, then ages 6 and 4, were distracted in another room. I was helping my mom, calling the hospital to see how my dad was doing and getting a series of calls from friends asking if they had heard anything. It was emotionally draining.
They cut off my cell phone, but I remember that my father was able to communicate with my mother. “I’m fine,” she said. “They are telling us to stay where we are.” Those were the last words we heard from him. But when I saw the South Tower collapse at 9:59 am, I knew in my heart that I was safe.
The next day, my mother and I had to drive into town, park the car, and walk for blocks to get to the hypocenter. It was surreal.
Not only was it eerily quiet, but the ash on my feet is unforgettable. At the time, this was all that was left of the Twin Towers, and I found myself essentially standing in a giant graveyard.
People showed hundreds of flyers with photos of missing relatives. Wanting to be strong, I pushed aside my feelings of depression as I ran from one Red Cross tent to another looking for signs that my father was still alive.
A week later, my mother decided to sit us down and explain that my father had not come home. But as a senior, in the weeks and months that followed, I felt the need to take on the role of second parent and be the caretaker to make sure everything was okay.
My mother stopped working and took early retirement from her position as assistant principal at the school to help legislators. My sister had to do it, but my brother spent hours playing with Legos, building and knocking down towers.
On December 1, 2001, a beautiful memorial service was held for my father, but he died shortly after while attending the funeral of a friend’s father. She was devastated and couldn’t stop crying. My sadness finally caught up with me, and the tears I shed were for him.
Approximately six months after my father’s death, a police officer came to our home in Howell, New Jersey, and informed us that his remains had been identified as his teeth.
As I grew older, I still experienced an overwhelming sense of loss, especially around the anniversary of 9/11. While my sister was seeking help through Tuesday’s Kids Counseling, a nonprofit organization that helps families of 9/11 victims, I decided to seek treatment at age 20.
With professional help I learned how lucky I was to be with my father for so long, but I am also grateful for the values he instilled in me.
He was a very funny, kind and caring person. Thanks to him, every Christmas I work with a charity to fill shoeboxes with toys and send them to people in need.
Some of his fondest memories include a camping trip in the Poconos, where he caught his first fish when he was 9 years old.
We laughed a lot because we didn’t want to touch it before it was harmlessly dumped into the lake. Like him, I never hurt animals.
She always reminded me to be nice to our old Golden Retriever, Kelsey.
When I was 12 years old, we visited SeaWorld and my dad cheered me on while swimming with dolphins. Today, I am a marine mammal ethologist at the Dolphin Research Center in Grassy Key, Florida.
One of the things we do is help veterans (some of whom went to war in Afghanistan on 9/11) manage PTSD through dolphin therapy. It’s incredibly rewarding and I feel like my work has come full circle.
You’ll be proud that I’m not just following my passion, but giving back to the community in some way.
Last year, for our 20th anniversary, I attended a memorial service in New York and read aloud the list of names (including my father’s) that my sister and I made in 2003.
We are honored to have had the opportunity to defend the men and women who died that day, but we are deeply saddened that they are no longer with us.
As Kathryn Hurd said
Source: Metro
I am Michael Melvin, an experienced news writer with a passion for uncovering stories and bringing them to the public. I have been working in the news industry for over five years now, and my work has been published on multiple websites. As an author at 24 News Reporters, I cover world section of current events stories that are both informative and captivating to read.