So here we are again looking down the barrel of yet another 9/11.

I forgot about it last year – probably because I’ve got the luxury of not having lost someone that day in NYC. This morning, though, I re-connected in an unexpected way:

Bella hopped out of the truck and navigated her way to the crossing guard, then across the street, up the stairs, and into her school. As I watched her disappear, the other children weaved in and out of the driveway, saying goodbye to their families and bus drivers.

The crossing guard blew his whistle.

The horns honked.

And even though I’ve seen it all a million times before, this morning I couldn’t help but sit there and cry as I watched the old man, who always walks with his grandson to the edge of the block, kisses him goodbye, and waves until the boy is gone. This was because ten year-old Frankie DeVito’s voice was in the background, filling the airwaves of NPR’s StoryCorps with his memories of losing his grandpa when the towers fell.

(Listen to Frankie’s voice, too: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=94283670)

 

He says:

“We used to play Peter Pan. We used to use the screwdrivers as swords and pretend I was, like, Peter Pan, and he was, like, Captain Hook.

He always used to be in the garage fixing up things with Cousin Mikey, and he also promised me he’d take me to his work once, but that’s not gonna happen.”

(Toward his mother) “I didn’t know that something happened until I came into the living room, and you were upset. You said there was something wrong with Papa.“

(This is where he begins to cry.)

“It made me scared.

I remember Mikey told me that planes crashed, and he wasn’t coming back.”

(Voice cracks and he stops to cry.)

Frankie’s Mom (Diana DeVito): Is there anything you did that made you feel better, that helped you get to sleep at night?

He answers:  Going up to Grandma or to my parents, giving them a hug, and resting on their shoulder. And sometimes…run into my room and I’d pretend that Grandpa was right there and nothing was wrong and my teddy was right there, so that helps me.

Frankie’s Mom: Do you think you’re different now than before because we lost Papa?

Frankie: Yeah, I think I’m different because being at certain places when I’m at a happy time, just somewhere in my mind…he won’t get out of there. He’s just stuck in my mind and that makes me a little sad everywhere I am.

And I have dreams with him. I always imagine us, like, seeing each other again and being really happy as a family without being sad or anything on September 11th.

(Then Frankie’s voice trails off…)

I love you, and there’s no other grandfather I’d rather see than you.

Pause.

Dear Frankie,

Not every ten year-old boy can claim to have super powers, but you can. Your story is so brave and strong and honest and big and bold that it made it ALL the way into my car’s stereo in Dallas, Texas. And if that’s not enough, it made me grateful for some folks I should see more often in my life, but don’t because I have it stuck in my head that they’ll just be around forever. 

I am really sorry about your Grandpa. When you talked about the screwdriver sword fights, you made me wish I’d had a grandpa like yours. He sounds like he was a lot of fun. I know it’s gotta hurt you and your mom and your cousin Mikey a lot not having him with you like before. I’ll bet someone’s told you this already, but when you tell your story, it helps people like me, who didn’t lose someone special when the planes hit the towers, understand a little what you and your family have to face every day. See, I know you probably couldn’t imagine, but some of us have started to forget exactly how rotten that day was. I don’t want to be one of those people. 

You painted a picture with your words for me of your grandfather. I didn’t know him, but now I know who he was. 

I’ll light a candle for him, and one for you, too, Superhero Frankie DeVito. Thanks, kid. :)

Sincerely, 

Kristan Austin