A Letter from New York City Detective Mario De Lucia
the Horror of the Terrorist Attack of September 11, 2001
Your kind words and good wishes are a
welcomed addition, along with the good wishes of everyone who has sent
messages to me in this tragic time.
The carnage lost of life and lives forever affected is sometimes overwhelming. Searching for a sign of life a movement a cry a glimmer of hope and finding nothing but the dark void of death. The lists of the missing the pictures left with us by loved ones with their hope that well spot them amongst the twisted steel and pylons of broken concrete is enough to keep us all going. The entire companies of Firefighters and units of Police Officers listed among the missing are already known to be gone is a sad reality but makes me proud to be a New Yorker and even more proud to be an American!
As you walk through the area once marred by the
hustle and bustle of businessmen, tourists and financiers, one cant
help but wish that the sometimes annoying routine scene could once again
be in place. The chatter of
people on the street, as the walked to or from work
the sound of
trucks and cars
the horns of noisy taxis
and the occasional siren
of a passing fire truck
is replaced by the eerie silence
only by the creaking of the twisted metal as it continues to twist under
the popping and shattering of windows as they too succumb
to the pressure
the movement of cranes and trucks as they help to
remove the carnage
and the occasional sound of the warning siren as it
alerts those rescue workers that another wall or building is ready to
or that there is an unidentified plane in the air
followed by the sounds of the workers running for cover. The dust
the stench is a reality of what has
I never thought Id ever see death the like of
which I experienced in Bosnia. The
white NATO body bags
the rows of bodies in a makeshift morgue. But the death seen here is far worse. The body bags are orange instead of white, but the still
represent a person that until Tuesday was viable
full of life
undertaking the mundane routine that often is taken for granted
now has been reduced to broken, twisted, burned remnants of a
once-beautiful life. So many
so many lives affected
so many tears
such changes in
so much to think about
so much to cry about.
The most poignant symbol in all of this
which appears to be rising out of the rubble and debris.
A beacon of hope.
Im sorry to vent like this and I hope that Im not offending anyone. Maybe what I just want is for all of you to hold your kids a little closer today call your parents and tell them that you love them hug your husband or your wife today go outside your home or your workplace and fly the American Flag with pride say a prayer for all those gone and for all of those touched by this tragedy and remember that nothing is certain but what we have today right now! Everything else is in Gods hands.