Last night I watched “102 Minutes That Changed America” It reminded me how that day, and those right after, I was so confused. I was panicked. I was unsure of everything around me. The memories that flooded back while watching that last night were overwhelming. I remember the woman who collapsed on the street, screaming and crying. I remember my coworkers, seeing them in a way you never expect to see coworkers. They were afraid. They were sad. They were grateful to have someone with them to figure out the maze to get out of New York. I remember seeing the men and women, covered in dust and soot, with their shocked and stunned faces. Most were walking by themselves. Most didn’t want to talk.
That day really changed me. However, it is the days right after that changed me more. The shock passed, then reality hit. I went to work the next day. It was all I was sure of I guess. But, I left after a few hours. My boss, he showed up at work too. He did the same thing I did. Starred at things on his desk, then went home. On the way home is when I saw the first missing signs. The fathers and mothers, sons and daughters who went to work and didn’t come home.
I think TV is what made it even worse for everyone. The constant coverage. The faces of sons, daughters, husbands and wives, friends and families crying, searching, hoping their loved one wasn’t in those buildings when they collapsed. Watching the Firemen, Police, EMTs, and others working tirelessly to find people alive, including their friends and partners and siblings. We needed to see what was happening, I think we saw more than we were supposed to.
One day, maybe, I will be able to feel something more than complete sorrow and shock about that day and those days after. Maybe one day I will, but that isn’t today, and it won’t be tomorrow. To those of you I worked with, walked on the street with and hugged and cried with, I know you feel the same way I do.
This tantrum totally trivializes the tragic thoughts that they transpired to tell. Today this theory tests the typical teachings tendered to teenagers. Tomorrow they tell their tales to target tribes thought to tenant towards the top tier. Then the time ticks. Tell them to take time to think.
Thank them.
Today marks the second anniversary of the passing of one of my very best friends, Jimmy Lombardi. I remember being in my office and getting a phone call from his mother the day he died. I did not believe her. I could not believe her. I mean, this was Jimmy, the guy I just spoke with the night before. The guy I spent countless hours and days and years with. The guy who loved his son more than anything in the world. The guy who I considered my best friend. The week after his death is a blur. The viewing, the service, having to call Marie, his recently ex-girlfriend, all seems so surreal now.
Jimmy was the guy who would drop what he was doing to help his friends. The guy who always had his heart open. The guy who had his troubles, but don’t we all? From the day I met him at the Gaslight in Hoboken to our last time hanging out together, Jimmy was the perfect friend. For those of you who know the turbulent life Jimmy lead, you know he was a firecracker. But, none of that mattered, because he was my best friend, and I was there for him no matter what, as he was there for me. If he was here today, he would probably have kicked my butt for moving to LA.
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Jimmy,
Near the end of your life I think you needed me more than I gave. I want to say I am sorry. I am sorry I did not spend those extra nights hanging out with you. Sorry I yelled at you when you came into the barber shop when I was getting my hair cut. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you more that you were and still are a great friend who I loved and trusted, and now I miss you very much. Your friendship will always have a deep place in my soul. I will take you with me until my end. Until then, on every February 17th I will celebrate your birth and every football season I’ll hope the Cowboys win. Don’t worry, I will keep in touch with your mother and make sure she is doing ok, and I will cherish the friendship we had. Be well, yah Lil’ Bitch!
Alex
