Remembrance

Five years have passed and I'm no more sure of my thoughts and feelings from that day as I was moments afterward. I'm not sure what to think, let alone write, other than I feel thankful for being alive. And sad. And guilty.

You may think you have seen enough pictures from September 11th. You may think that the memories belong in the past. You may think that while the day may never be forgotten, the pain can be left behind. You may believe that ignorance is bliss. I don't.

Thinking back, I exited the subway and stepped onto Sixth Avenue at precisely the moment the 1st plane hit. I rushed to my office, knowing many people worry about me, not realizing how large a city NY is. I was on the phone with my girlfriend Kate when the 2nd plane hit. Until that moment, I honestly believed that the first sight was just a horrendous accident. Years later, I now remember that single moment as the last naive one I'll carry.

My sister called my office in tears, having worked in building 2 for the Port Authority for almost a year. Many members of her company, Accenture still did. And many of her friends and co-workers never made it home that day. Or anyday since. Knowing that there was no way out of the city, but that she was in a safer area uptown, and that she was scared, I decided to make my way up to her.

60 NYC blocks. I remember thinking that this could perhaps be the scariest thing I will ever experience. If I'm lucky, I'll never know anymore terror than that. I know I've yet to experience anything close since.

You watch films and you think to yourself that looks realistic or that would never happen. But rarely do you have a real life basis for comparison. Watch the news, any night, with the sight of people running from a collapsing building, and try not to compare it to a movie. Did I see that in Deep Impact or Armageddon? Godzilla? Independence Day?

The same goes for over a million visuals that will forever burn into my memory. Crowded buses teetering on every corner or worse yet, not stopping and being chased down. People actually grabbing and rocking buses to make them stop.

A mass exodus went uptown with me. City streets filled with people trying to find whatever they needed...people, places, hope...I don't know. Running, walking, rollerblading... If people smiled, you might have mistaken it for a parade. No one smiled, few even looked up. Those that did knew what they were looking for, or who for that matter.

I worked near that NYC School for the Blind. Try to imagine making your way through this without sight. When you can't even hear the signal lights over the sound of a crowd. I doubt many could take it in and realize that...

On any other day, I see this and think to myself, I can help this one man and continue on with my life. I can give and go. I'd like to think that many people think this. But imagine seeing this on the other side of the street, knowing you'd have to pass through a sea of hundreds of frantic people just to make it. There was an opeing for a moment and I never took it. Perhaps someone went to help the isolated soul that I left behind. I pray that is true. Unfortunately, all I am left with are my prayers, as I did nothing that day for that man. A man I never met and a man I will never forget.

You see once he was passed me, like once we all passed something, it was gone. You did not turn around that day. No body turned around. Perhaps you went and returned, but you never looked back. What you saw on TV is what we saw when we turned.

And you know what the worst thing was, what really scared those who lived and breathed this city for years...It wasn't what you saw. It was what you didn't see. What you knew should be there. The sight of what is, what was, and what should not be possible.

But something else made you look only forward. Smoke and gas. You see what they rarely mentioned on the news and what I think most NYkers realized is this. Terrorism knows no boundaries and toxins, gases, and germ warefare is out there. Who was to say there was none on board. And this was before the anthrax scare, too. I can only image if a more informed and paranoid crowd was forced to greet 9/11. Panic? Perhaps, but the once mere possibility was out there and it passed along the streets, a place where there was no escape from the idea. From the fear.

Fear for my life is something that I can honestly say I know. Being able to recognize it doesn't make it any easier to accept, only easier to displace. I seem to be very good at this. Unfortunately it allows shock to enter very quickly later on.

And you know the frightening thing is that as a so-called media friendly person, I knew what to expect. I knew that thousands would stand in Times Square and watch the video screen or at the FOX News studios to see the news ticker. There would be people watching TV through Radio Shack or WIZ displays. The cars rushing uptown, debris still flying from the windshield. The gridlock traffic. The honking. The sirens.

The sirens never stopped. Sometimes I think they still haven't. When they will I don't know. A siren ceases to exist in purpose at this point. It is meant to startle, to break up, and to warn. During thaose days there were no sirens. There was only noise...9/11 remains a defiant memory, refusing to diminish, refusing to fade away. I somehow doubt that will ever change.

Nothing makes sense and everything conflicts itself. I try to forget, but know that I should force myself to remember. I try to move on, but don't know where to go. I think about that day as if years have passed, when it was only Tuesday. But now years have passed and it's still just Tuesday. It's a pleasant autumn day and the cool breeze breaks up a warm sunny day, tossing a few strands of hair into my eyes. I'm squinting as I emerge from the subway. The day is young and I've just awoken.

I'm now awake. Sleep, restful and at peace, alluding me since.

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