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From: Danielle Yglesias
Sent to New York Metro: 10/16/01


The following is dedicated to my Sister's family who are residents of Battery Park City; her two children, my niece Jackie and nephew Cliff were students at P.S. 89. My nephew's classroom window looked right at the Towers and he saw the first plane hit. He's only four years old.

Memorial for the Twin Towers

I grew up in New York City Born and raised in Brooklyn, near Coney Island. I was born in '69 So I have no real recollection of New York City without the Towers. When I was in grammar school it was a wholly great adventure to take the yellow school bus trip to the World Trade Center Observation Deck. It was the only time I knew a teacher to pass out gum so our ears wouldn't pop on the way up in the high speed elevators. My first impressions of the view were of peace and awe at the wonders mankind could achieve.

My very first job, while still in High School was delivering messages and packages throughout the Trade Center Buildings. I'd carry brown boxes and pink message slips throughout all the long carpeted corridors. All the busy three piece suits would smile and say "thanks" and I'd sneak lunch from the corporate dining tables they had set up in the halls.

My sister and brother-in-law married in '92 They had their reception at "Windows of the World". I was the maid of honor and I toasted to their health and their love as the city looked in and gave its blessing. There are few days in life that one can call perfect but we drank, danced and took smiling family pictures where even old nemesis' wrapped arms in good gesture. It was magic. It was alchemy. So giddy were we that we all sang in the elevator on the way down.

After that I hadn't been up high in the Trade Centers although I walked through it all the time; Christmas shopping, catching the train, enjoying the free summer concerts they held in the plaza.

But this year in late August, I met some friends for dinner and their six-year-old son wanted to see the Towers. His first time... We walked out on the deck as the last blaze of sunset greeted us and the dark blue of the coming night ate away at the sky. The city hummed below as it turned on its electric halo and the Avenues and Streets, the veins of light twinkled like the tails of comets. We dropped quarters into tourist telescopes and looked up at the moon, so close and tempting like a cookie waiting for a bite. We looked down on Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty and I felt peace and awe like I had as a child.

For the last month I have taken the "W" train over the Brooklyn Bridge to get to work as I have always done before and the tears come when sight acknowledges what is missing from a view once taken for granted. But I find comfort In Lady Liberty and Ol' Glory waving to me from high atop the arch of the parallel Manhattan Bridge.

I miss my city siblings; the firemen, the policemen, all the people who died just trying to get through their daily lives and I truly miss the Towers and the peace and the awe....

Danielle M. Yglesias

 

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From: Colleen Morey
Sent to New York Metro: 10/13/01


My regular journeys into New York City to volunteer at the Javit's Center during the recent few weeks have taken me through a sea of posters for the loved ones who are lost and missing in this terrible tragedy. The emotion is difficult to express....I share with you, my thoughts...

Missing - with sadness…

I did not know you, but I have seen your face.... There you stood - proudly beside your new bride...your new groom. You posed awkwardly in front of your first car; on the lawn of your new home; sporting your graduation gown; sitting at your desk on your first day of work…
You beamed at me... from the beach where you spent your last vacation; bookends with your loved one at a cafe in Rome; holding your newborn baby; cuddling your devoted pet.
This was a moment - your moment… your face radiated every emotion we each long to know in our brief visit upon this earth… joy – pride – confidence – happiness -delight – devotion – love – peace…
I have received the gift of your candid expression.
Your posture was proud, your eyes were bright…
your smile could melt the sun…

I did not know you, but I have seen your face…
You passed by me on taxis and buses; you gazed at me from lampposts and concrete pillars; from coffee shops and revolving doors…I looked for you each day in the crowds on the streets… I begged for your safety in my prayers every night. Your comfort became my obsession - your loved ones have become my heartache. Their tears and yearning rip through my soul with the most confusing blend of frustration and compassion – it cannot be soothed…their sadness has become my weeping.

I did not know you, but I have seen your face…
I knew your stature and features – you were the most beautiful person anyone had ever known… the truest of gentlemen; the most gracious of women; the sweetest of children… and you were. You stood a sturdy six foot four; and you were a petite five-foot one; a cuddly three feet tall… You had striking blue eyes; your eyes were dreamy brown – sometimes they were a misty ocean gray. Strangers, friends, and family always came first for you – you were the life of the party and the heart of the family. You were the one with the deepest faith… the one who wept for the fallen child; soothed the heartbroken friend; laughed the ready laugh….

I did not know you, but I have seen your face…
You went to war for me – and you have become my hero – our hero. You fought the most gallant fight for me… for all of us… and yet, you never knew your enemy. You headed into battle as any other day of your life. You adorned your armor – a favorite tie; new shoes; first autumn dress, your Tuesday suit. A kiss goodbye, a ride on the train, a take-a-way coffee - strolling briskly under the brilliant blue skies just warming from the morning sun – you never saw your enemy.

I did not know you, but I have seen your face…
I long for you… I long for your return – we all do... That you might somehow come back to ease our grief… that we might find you – beyond the photographs of communal experiences… in the photographs within our hearts. That we might find you - in shared songs… or familiar scents from the kitchen… in a fragrance… or favored article of clothing… Perhaps you will visit us in our dreams….

I did not know you, but I have seen your face… and I miss you… we all miss you… with sadness...

Colleen Elizabeth Morey, September 2001


 

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From: Rosemarie Monaco
Sent to New York Metro: 10/9/01

Life goes on. How can it.

I mourn for each of them…500, 5000
Too many to count. For each life crumbling
I crumble too. I sit here crying for all, for every heart.
A beating heart pulls me from my grief, my dog walks in.
Her head on my lap, unknowingly, yet knowing
Something wrong with me. Her master shaken,
Her foundation uncertain. Her master trembling in pain
For people she never knew. Perhaps she should have.
And now she does. Forever.
She reaches out to find me, somewhere
Behind my tears. I jolt from my cloud to comfort her
For comforting me. She lies down at my feet.
To keep me safe. To know she is safe.

My tears of sorrow turn to hate.
No, don’t let me. For hate is what did this.
This unspeakable….
But what of them. In nations torn by everyday war.
Intolerance. Babies blown to bits.
Loved ones burned faceless. How dare we not understand.
Now we do.

I died five days ago. We all died. Who we were.
What we believed to be true is gone.
Nothing the same ever again. No life untouched
Not even my dog.

Nine months ago my mother died.
My brother and I by her side. Holding her hand.
She said goodbye. These never had the chance.
Yet as my mother lives here in my heart
These 5000 will live in all of us. Uniting Us.
A nation. The world. We will remember them.
And life goes on. We must.

Rosemarie Monaco

 

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