My Heroes

Well, here it is. 364 days we can live our lives around it. That part of us that stopped that day. But one day a year we are compelled to remember not just those who fell that day, but those we know and love, who through their bravery and compassion stayed beyond that day and are now dying a slow and painful way. My love and respect to the men and women who worked rescue and recovery. Who painstakingly removed the pile one bucket at a time. Who breathed the toxins for months. Who found a necklace, or a shoe and sat down and cried right then because they knew the person who owned it was gone, but it meant a family would have a physical memento.

And they went back day after day. Week after week. They did everything they could to find something, anything, to give to the families to provide whatever comfort and closure they possibly could.

They are the silent heroes. The ones no one knows about. The ones no one ever thinks about. The ones I know and love. They are the men and women who build this city. And have for generations. They are the ones who went and took away what had been destroyed with honor and respect.

And they are the ones who are also victims of 9/11. Who will die as a direct result of that day. But there will be no media coverage, no crowds and no bagpipes.

They will be quietly laid to rest with the hope that during those months after the attacks, they made a difference for the families of 9/11.

They are my heroes.