Every September, when the air sharpens and the days grow shorter, my thoughts wander back to you, my oldest friend. It’s been twenty-four years since that morning, yet your absence still feels new, like a note left unfinished in the middle of a song.
You were always there for me, steady and unshakable. I never had to wonder where you stood. I walked in your shadow many a morning. You were strength and laughter, mischief and courage. A shoe shine and a hotdog in the basement. I leaned on you without realizing how much, the way a sailor leans on a lighthouse without ever stopping to think what life would be like if the beam went dark.
You carried yourself higher than the rest, not with arrogance, but with a kind of quiet pride. From where you stood, you could see farther than most of us ever dreamed. You used to tell me, “Come up sometime, I’ll show you the view.” I always meant to, but life has a way of stealing promises before they’re kept. Even had lunch on top of the world.
And then that day came. The world shifted, the sky itself seemed to burn, and suddenly you were gone. Too soon. Too suddenly. One moment you were there, and the next you weren’t—leaving a silence no one could fill.
Since then, I’ve carried you in fragments: of my thoughts, I still hear when the city wakes up, in your shadow. A memory of how your presence made everything steadier, hopeful. You’re in the skyline at dawn, in the hum of the streets at night, in the ache that rises each September. No one – no matter how tall or pretty can replace you.
Some say time heals, but I don’t believe it. Time just teaches us how to walk with the hole in our chest. What heals me is remembering you—not just the loss, but the light. You were my anchor, my proof that even in chaos, something solid could stand.
You were more than a friend. You were a part of the city itself, a part of me. And though the world moves on, every autumn I return to you. Not because you’re gone, but because in some way you’re still here—watching from above, steady as ever, reminding me to keep going.
I miss you, old friend. Always will. You remain the light that guides me home.
I won’t forget September 11, 2001—for many reasons.
That morning I had to do one of the hardest things in my life: drive my mom to an ALF. Her Alzheimer’s had gotten to the point where we could no longer care for her at home. We were getting her ready, my wife had taken the kids to school, and Mom sat watching TV. She said, “Look, an airplane hit a building.”
I brushed it off. “Oh, okay—accidents like that happen sometimes.”
But she said, “No, look.”
So I did. I saw it, and muttered something about a pilot error. Then I got her in the car and drove her a few blocks to the ALF. As we moved her in, the staff had the TV on. Suddenly there was shouting—another plane had hit. Now it was obvious this wasn’t an accident.
I started getting phone calls, but ignored them. My wife finally got through, frantic, telling me what I already knew—except she’d locked her keys in her car across town. By the time I got back in my car to go help her, one of the towers had already come down.
By 10 a.m. my phone wouldn’t stop. When I finally answered one from the office, they told me our news feed to the website was gone. The company that provided it was based in one of the towers. Then it hit me: the hundred-plus people I’d known—colleagues I had lunch with, partners I’d worked with—gone. Just like that. Only a few survived, by chance: one was traveling, one was running late, and two had called in sick.
I never went to a memorial. I never went back to New York. It took me years to even speak about it. Close to 3000 people died needlessly that day and at least that many afterward. And that was on the low end of what could have happen, later in the day the numbers would have been higher. It is hard to think about it.
So you see, when they blew up a few of Al Qaeda with drones, or waterboard them, I didn’t shed a tear. They had stolen futures, stolen friends, stolen light—and left us only chaos.
A World Not to Be Fooled By
I didn’t know Charlie Kirk. I don’t think I ever even heard him speak until today. And now he’s gone, killed — another reminder of how dark this world can be.
It’s proof enough that evil walks among us. Many of us try to live as good people, carrying kindness where we can. But others choose another path, a path of cruelty and destruction. What a shame that such evil exists, and what a tragedy that it so often finds its way into the lives of the innocent.
Don’t fool yourself: the world is not only full of good souls. It also carries those who bring harm, who take joy in hurting others. To recognize this truth isn’t to give up hope — it’s to face reality with clear eyes. Only then can we stand against it, and hold fast to the good that still survives.
Yeah, I promise cat videos tomorrow – not today, today I am crying for all of us. Sorry!
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