| Clay | ReadSowell.com clay@readsowell.com |
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Yesterday was the 25th anniversary of 9/11. I wanted to write to you about it. I sat down at my computer and I really tried to come up with something, but all I could think about was an email I received back in June from a reader. It was a reply to my piece "It's Just a Shot Away", which you can read here. He was a New York City firefighter. He was there that morning. What most of us saw on a TV screen, he saw with his own eyes. He breathed that polluted air with his own lungs. I emailed him late last night to ask him if I could share his story with you, and he said yes. These are his words exactly. I only broke them into paragraphs to make it easier to read. For me, it was 9/11. At the time, I was a NYC Firefighter. I was working at headquarters right over the bridge from where the first plane hit. A bunch of guys were mustering in the lobby. They had planned to walk over the bridge and do what they could. There was a lot of yelling, questions, in particular, "what are we going to do about gear and equipment?!" The answer was, "don't worry about it, we'll figure it out when we get there!" The plan ultimately was, there is no plan. At that moment, I decided to get in my truck and drive to the Bronx, where I was regularly stationed, to get my gear and return to the WTC. While I was stuck in traffic trying to get to the Bronx, the south tower collapsed in full view of the cars traveling in the opposite direction. The look of pain, horror and sadness on the faces of those drivers while pointing at the collapsing building are seared in my mind. I looked in my side view mirror to see the remnants of the south tower disappear. Ultimately, all the men who mustered in the lobby perished. Long story short, I had survivors guilt, bad. PTSD, bad. But the moment that building collapsed was my moment. I knew nothing would ever be the same. After weeks of digging up body parts, my crew found a fire lieutenant that was well known. I felt a bit of weight off my shoulders. We gave closure to his family that many others still don't have to this day. But ever since, I've felt like that shot away. One day, I was interviewed some months later by a small local paper while I was working. I remember telling the reporter when she asked me how I felt currently. I remember saying that all our problems felt smaller after that day. That I held my family tighter. That was the kiss away, for me. After what I had put my family through for months, after we found Ray Murphy, things started to get better just a little bit, day by day. I still don't remember the things I did to my family, how I yelled at them for nothing all the time. My wife told me she was scared, didn't know what to do. Zero recollection. But she stood by me. Just a kiss away. Thanks for that, man. I appreciate you. Darren DeBonet I wrote that essay in June. It was about the Rolling Stones song "Gimme Shelter", and how close the worst thing and the best thing are to each other. Just a shot away from horror, just a kiss away from connection. Darren read it and told me where both are in his life. The tower coming down was the shot. His wife standing next to him through the months he can't even remember was the kiss. Pray for Darren today, and everyone else who faced down the hell he faced that day, 25 years ago. stay close, ~ Clay p.s. Darren doesn't talk about this much. If his story moved you, hit reply and tell him so. I'll make sure he reads every one. |
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