Forever Kept in the Vault of  My Heart

As of this writing, James and I last spoke 8,035 days ago.  This anniversary of September 11^th 2001 marks the tragic last day that I heard the sound of my brother’s voice.  At the time, I truly believed that my heart held all the love that it could possibly hold over my lifetime.

But I was wrong.

Twenty-two years of missing James has increased the love I have for him beyond measure.  Years have shown me what it means to suddenly lose a cherished sibling in the horrific way that 9/11 families did.  Losing him forever changed my own place in the world.  The bond that siblings hold for each other shapes the life of the whole family.

That is what love simply does.  When one is lost, all are lost.

As brother and sister, James and I began life with arms locked together.

I was the older “big” sister who treasured taking care of James when he was little.  As children, we held each other’s hand before falling asleep at night, giving a slight squeeze back and forth until we both drifted off.  I saved his place at the dinner table and he saved mine.

The early years we shared are filled with so many memories of the “little James” I loved so preciously.  Even as he grew older, that sister’s love was always right there next to him.  On one hot summer night, I vividly remember when he pulled up to the curb in front of our house to park his brand new Harley-Davidson.  Within seconds, James was listening to that same sister, who knew absolutely nothing about how to ride a motorcycle; lay down every safety rule in the book.  Taking off his helmet to show me his smile cornered by deep dimples, James listened to every word.

A treasury of 26 beautiful years of life with James is stored in the vault of my memory.

With the passage of time, memories can fade if you do not keep bringing them to the forefront of your mind.  And so, I continuously chisel anew to preserve every memory of my brother exactly as they happened so that time cannot lay a finger on any one of them.

My memories of James become visible through the tears I cry.

To me, “never forget” means vividly remembering his expressions, the blue pattern on his winter pajamas, the way he laughed, the stories we shared, silly jokes we told and everything else that gloriously made him James. When both of my children were born, James came to meet them for the first time holding a camera.

Every memory I have of him lives forevermore in the mighty fortress of my heart where time cannot enter.  There in this place, love conquers time and anything that belongs to the world.  God dwells there and has all my memories in an eternal safekeeping.

My heart is with every 9/11 family member remembering their loved ones especially on this 22^nd anniversary, and living each day with “never forget” etched on their heart.