st. paul's chapel.

i've lived in the financial district the 2 years that i've been living in new york. so, i pass by this church often. it's located on church street between fulton & vesey - opposite the east side of where the world trade towers used to stand. the only thing i knew about this church is that alexander hamilton and robert fulton were buried in the trinity churchyard and i thought that in itself was pretty damn interesting.

it wasn't until my brother came to visit, that we decided to step inside the church walls. it was completed in 1766, making it manhattan's oldest public building in continuous use and there's so much history i can talk about including the pew that george washington sat in to worship on inauguration day in april of 1789... but that's not what left me in awe.

st. paul's chapel also served as a place of rest and refuge for recovery workers at the world trade center site. this is what left me speachless. this is what made me wonder... are we ever going to recover? but in the midst of sympathizing for all those that perished, i realized through great hatred - we found an underlying of an even greater love. found a common ground of understanding... and ran with it.

there was a table set up with letters and pictures from family and friends who lost beloved members of the FDNY and NYPD on september 11th, 2001. two that hit me the hardest was one that read, "while everyone else was running out - you were running in. thank you." and a newspaper article with the headline, "my dad. our hero." for the first time in four years since it all started... i cried.

to be completely honest, that day - that year... it never occurred to me how drastically everyone's lives would change... how serious all of this was. (i was still living in illinois at the time.) i think it was when i saw the TIME magazine filled with pictures from that morning that i finally comprehended the magnitude of destruction. i know, it's shameful. my friend who was working for the chicago fire department at the time, left for two weeks to volunteer at ground zero - and upon his return, he explained to me without getting into too much detail (at his discretion) the things he saw... the way he felt... and i tried to grasp the significance of it all... but, like any third party - couldn't wholly understand.

any time i walk past the viewing gates, i strip away the political aspect of it all and try to understand the meaning of the gaping hole as far as sympathizing with the person standing next to me - who lost their spouse, their child, their parent(s), their friend.

i haven't been keeping up with the plans for rebuilding wtc, but i figure, you can tear down the viewing walls, the posters, the names, the pictures - fill the gap in the skyline... but at the end of it all, who's responsible for filling the gaps in the minds and hearts of everyone who's missing somebody?