Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close (25 page)

'I don't think about him.'

He pressed Play and listened to the messages again, and again I pressed Stop after the fifth was finished.

He wrote, 'He sounds calm in the last message.' I told him, 'I read something in
National Geographic
about how, when an animal thinks it's going to die, it gets panicky and starts to act crazy. But when it
knows

it's going to die, it gets very, very calm.'

'Maybe he didn't want you to worry.' Maybe. Maybe he didn't say he loved me
because

he loved me. But that wasn't a good enough explanation. I said, 'I need to know how he died.'

He flipped back and pointed at, 'Why?'

'So I can stop inventing how he died. I'm always inventing.'

He flipped back and pointed at, 'I'm sorry.'

'I found a bunch of videos on the Internet of bodies falling. They were on a Portuguese site, where there was all sorts of stuff they weren't showing here, even though it happened here. Whenever I want to try to learn about how Dad died, I have to go to a translator program and find out how to say things in different languages, like 'September,' which is 'Wrzesieri,' or 'people jumping from burning buildings,' which is 'Menschen, die aus brennenden Gebauden springen.' Then I Google those words. It makes me incredibly angry that people all over the world can know things that I can't, because it happened
here
, and happened to
me
, so shouldn't it be
mine

?

'I printed out the frames from the Portuguese videos and examined them extremely closely. There's one body that could be him. It's dressed like he was, and when I magnify it until the pixels are so big that it stops looking like a person, sometimes I can see glasses. Or I think I can. But I know I probably can't. It's just me wanting it to be him.'

'You want him to have jumped?'

'I want to stop inventing. If I could know how he died, exactly how he died, I wouldn't have to invent him dying inside an elevator that was stuck between floors, which happened to some people, and I wouldn't have to imagine him trying to crawl down the outside of the building, which I saw a video of one person doing on a Polish site, or trying to use a tablecloth as a parachute, like some of the people who were in Windows on the World actually did. There were so many different ways to die, and I just need to know which was his.'

He held out his hands like he wanted me to take them. 'Are those tattoos?' He closed his right hand. I flipped back and pointed at 'Why?' He took back his hands and wrote, 'It's made things easier. Instead of writing yes and no all the time, I can show my hands.'

'But why just YES and NO?'

'I only have two hands.'

'What about 'I'll think about it,' and 'probably,' and 'it's possible'?' He closed his eyes and concentrated for a few seconds. Then he shrugged his shoulders, just like Dad used to.

'Have you always been silent?' He opened his right hand. 'Then why don't you talk?' He wrote, 'I can't.'

'Why not?' He pointed at, 'I can't.'

'Are your vocal cords broken or something?'

'Something is broken.'

'When was the last time you talked?'

'A long, long time ago.'

'What was the last word you said?' He flipped back and pointed at 'I.'

'
I

was the last word you said?' He opened his left hand. 'Does that even count as a word?' He shrugged his shoulders. 'Do you try to talk?'

'I know what will happen.'

'What?' He flipped back and pointed at, 'I can't.'

'Try.'

'Now?'

'Try to say something.' He shrugged his shoulders. I said, 'Please.'

He opened his mouth and put his fingers on his throat. They fluttered, like Mr. Black's fingers looking for a one-word biography, but no sound came out, not even an ugly sound, or breath.

I asked him, 'What were you trying to say?' He flipped back and pointed at, 'I'm sorry.' I said, 'It's OK.' I said, 'Maybe your vocal cords actually are broken. You should go to a specialist.' I asked him, 'What were you trying to say?' He pointed at, 'I'm sorry.'

I asked, 'Can I take a picture of your hands?'

He put his hands on his lap, face-up, like a book.

YES and NO.

I focused Grandpa's camera.

He kept his hands extremely still.

I took the picture.

I told him, 'I'm going to go home now.' He picked up his book and wrote, 'What about your grandma?'

'Tell her I'll talk to her tomorrow.'

As I was halfway across the street, I heard clapping behind me, almost like the birds' wings outside Mr. Black's window. I turned around and the renter was standing at the building's door. He put his hand on his throat and opened his mouth, like he was trying to speak again.

I called back to him, 'What are you trying to say?'

He wrote something in his book and held it up, but I couldn't see it, so I ran back over. It said, 'Please don't tell your grandmother that we met.' I told him, 'I won't if you won't,' and I didn't even wonder the obvious thing, which was why would he want to keep it a secret? He wrote, 'If you ever need me for anything, just throw pebbles at the guest room window. I'll come down and meet you under the streetlamp.' I said, 'Thanks.' Although inside what I was thinking was,
Why would I ever need you?

All I wanted was to fall asleep that night, but all I could do was invent.

What about frozen planes, which could be safe from heat-seeking missiles?

What about subway turnstiles that were also radiation detectors?

What about incredibly long ambulances that connected every building to a hospital?

What about parachutes in fanny packs?

What about guns with sensors in the handles that could detect if you were angry, and if you were, they wouldn't fire, even if you were a police officer?

What about Kevlar overalls?

What about skyscrapers made with moving parts, so they could rearrange themselves when they had to, and even open holes in their middles for planes to fly through?

What about…

What about…

What about…

And then a thought came into my brain that wasn't like the other thoughts. It was closer to me, and louder. I didn't know where it came from, or what it meant, or if I loved it or hated it. It opened up like a fist, or a flower.

What about digging up Dad's empty coffin?

WHY I'M NOT WHERE YOU ARE

9/11/03

To my child: I wrote my last letter on the day you died, and I assumed I'd never write another word to you, I've been so wrong about so much that I've assumed, why am I surprised to feel the pen in my hand tonight? I'm writing as I wait to meet Oskar, in a little less than an hour, I'll close this book and find him under the streetlight, we'll be on our way to the cemetery, to you, your father and your son, this is how it happened. I gave a note to your mother's doorman almost two years ago. I watched from across the street as the limousine pulled up, she got out, she touched the door, she'd changed so much but I still knew her, her hands had changed but the way she touched was the same, she went into the building with a boy, I couldn't see if the doorman gave her my note, I couldn't see her reaction, the boy came out and went into the building across the street. I watched her that night as she stood with her palms against the window, I left another note with the doorman, 'Do you want to see me again, or should I go away?' The next morning there was a note written on the window, 'Don't go away,' which meant something, but it didn't mean 'I want to see you again.' I gathered a handful of pebbles and tossed them at her window, nothing happened, I tossed some more, but she didn't come to the window, I wrote a note in my daybook – 'Do you want to see me again?' – I ripped it out and gave it to the doorman, the next morning I went back, I didn't want to make her life any harder than it was, but I didn't want to give up either, there was a note on the window, 'I don't want to want to see you again,' which meant something, but it didn't mean yes. I gathered pebbles from the street and threw them at her window, hoping she would hear me and know what I meant, I waited, she didn't come to the window, I wrote a note – 'What should I do?' – and gave it to the doorman, he said, 'I'll make sure she gets it,' I couldn't say, 'Thank you.' The next morning I went back, there was a note on her window, the first note, 'Don't go away,' I gathered pebbles, I threw them, they tapped like fingers against the glass, I wrote a note, 'Yes or no?' for how long could it go on? The next day I found a market on Broadway and bought an apple, if she didn't want me I would leave, I didn't know where I would go, but I would turn around and walk away, there was no note on her window, so I threw the apple, anticipating the glass that would rain down on me, I wasn't afraid of the shards, the apple went through her window and into her apartment, the doorman was standing in front of the building, he said, 'You're lucky that was open, pal,' but I knew I wasn't lucky, he handed me a key. I rode the elevator up, the door was open, the smell brought back to me what for forty years I had struggled not to remember but couldn't forget. I put the key in my pocket, 'Only the guest room!' she called from our bedroom, the room in which we used to sleep and dream and make love. That was how we began our second life together…When I got off the plane, after eleven hours of travel and forty years away, the man took my passport and asked me the purpose of my visit, I wrote in my daybook, 'To mourn,' and then, 'To
mourn

try to live,' he gave me a look and asked if I would consider that business or pleasure, I wrote, 'Neither.'

'For how long do you plan to mourn and try to live?' I wrote, 'For the rest of my life.'

'So you're going to stay?'

'For as long as I can.'

'Are we talking about a weekend or a year?' I didn't write anything. The man said, 'Next.' I watched the bags go around the carousel, each one held a person's belongings, I saw babies going around and around, possible lives, I followed the arrows for those with nothing to declare, and that made me want to laugh, but I was silent. One of the guards asked me to come to the side, 'That's a lot of suitcases for someone with nothing to declare,' he said, I nodded, knowing that people with nothing to declare carry the most, I opened the suitcases for him, 'That's a lot of paper,' he said, I showed him my left palm, 'I mean, that's a whole lot of paper.' I wrote, 'They're letters to my son. I wasn't able to send them to him while he was alive. Now he's dead. I don't speak. I'm sorry.' The guard looked at the other guard and they shared a smile, I don't mind if smiles come at my expense, I'm a small price to pay, they let me through, not because they believed me but because they didn't want to try to understand me, I found a pay phone and called your mother, that was as far as my plan went, I assumed so much, that she was still alive, that she was in the same apartment I'd left forty years before, I assumed she would come pick me up and everything would begin to make sense, we would mourn and try to live, the phone rang and rang, we would forgive ourselves, it rang, a woman answered, 'Hello?' I knew it was her, the voice had changed but the breath was the same, the spaces between the words were the same, I pressed '4, 3, 5, 5, 6,' she said, 'Hello?' I asked, '4, 7, 4, 8, 7, 3, 2, 5, 5, 9, 9, 6, 8?' She said, 'Your phone isn't one hundred dollars. Hello?' I wanted to reach my hand through the mouthpiece, down the line, and into her room, I wanted to reach YES, I asked, '4, 7,4,8, 7, 3, 2, 5, 5,9,9,6, 8?' She said, 'Hello?' I told her, '4, 3, 5, 7!'

'Listen,' she said, 'I don't know what's wrong with your phone, but all I hear is beeps. Why don't you hang up and try again.' Try again? I was trying to try again, that's what I was doing! I knew it wouldn't help, I knew no good would come of it, but I stood there in the middle of the airport, at the beginning of the century, at the end of my life, and I told her everything: why I'd left, where I'd gone, how I'd found out about your death, why I'd come back, and what I needed to do with the time I had left. I told her because I wanted her to believe me and understand, and because I thought I owed it to her, and to myself, and to you, or was it just more selfishness? I broke my life down into letters, for love I pressed '5, 6, 8, 3,' for death, '3, 3, 2, 8, 4,' when the suffering is subtracted from the joy, what remains? What, I wondered, is the sum of my life? '6,9,6, 2, 6, 3,4, 7, 3, 5,4, 3, 2, 5, 8, 6, 2, 6, 3,4, 5, 8, 7, 8, 2, 7, 7,4, 8, 3, 3. 2 8, 8,4, 3, 2,4, 7, 7, 6, 7, 8, 4, 6, 3, 3, 3, 8, 6, 3,4, 6, 3, 6, 7, 3,4, 6, 5, 3, 5, 7! 6,4, 3,2,2, 6, 7,4, 2, 5, 6, 3, 8, 7, 2, 6, 3,4, 3? 5, 7, 6, 3, 5, 8,6, 2, 6 3.4. 5. 8. 7.8, 2, 7, 7,4,8, 3, 9, 2, 8, 8,4, 3, 2,4, 7, 7,6, 7,8,4,6, 3, 3, 4. 5, 7, 6, 7, 8,4, 6, 3, 5, 5, 2, 6, 9, 4, 6, 5, 6, 7, 5, 4, 6! 5, 2, 6, 2, 6, 5, 9, 5, 2? 6, 9,6, 2, 6, 5,4, 7, 5, 5,4, 5, 2, 5, 2, 6,4, 6, 2,4, 5, 2, 7, 2, 2, 7, 7,4, 2, 5. 5, 2, 9, 2, 4, 5, 2,6! 4, 2, 2, 6, 5,4, 2, 5, 7,4, 5, 2, 5, 2,6, 2, 6, 5, 4, 5, 2, 7,2, 2, 7, 7,4, 2, 5, 5, 2, 2, 2,4, 5, 2! 7, 2, 2, 7, 7,4, 2, 5, 5, 2, 2, 2,4, 5, 2, 4, 7, 2, 2, 7, 2,4, 6, 5, 5, 5, 2, 6, 5,4, 6, 5, 6, 7, 5,4! 4, 3, 2, 4, 3, 3, 6, 3, 8, 4! 6, 3, 3, 3, 8,6, 3, 9, 6, 3, 6, 6, 3, 4, 6, 5, 3, 5, 3! 2, 2, 3, 3, 2,6, 3,4, 2, 5, 6, 3,8, 3, 2,6, 3,4, 3? 5,6, 8, 3? 5, 3,6, 3, 5, 8, 6, 2, 6, 3,4, 5, 8, 3, 8, 2, 3, 4, 8, 3, 3, 2, 8! 3, 3,4, 8, 3, 3, 2- 8, 3,4- 3. 2,4, 7, 6, 6, 7, 8,4, 6, 8, 3, 8, 8, 6, 3,4, 6, 3! 2, 2, 7, 7,4, 2, 5, 5, 2, 9, 2,4, 5, 2,6! 4, 2, 2,6, 5,4, 2, 5, 7,4, 5. 6, 5, 5, 2, 6, 2, 6, 3, 4, 5, 8, 3, 8, 2, 3, 3, 4, 8, 3, 9, 2, 8, 8, 4, 3, 2,4, 3, 3, 6. 3- 8, 4, 6, 3, 3, 3, 8! 4, 3, 2,4, 3, 3, 6, 3, 8, 4! 6, 3, 3, 3, 8, 6, 3, 9, 6, 3, 6, 6, 3,4, 6, 5, 3, 5, 3! 2, 2, 3, 3, 2, 6, 3,4, 2, 5, 6, 3, 8, 3, 2, 6, 3,4, 3? 5, 6, 8, 3? 5. 3. 6. 3. S 8,6, 2, 6, 3,4, 5, 8, 3, 8, 2, 3, 3,4, -8, 3, 3, 2, 8! 2, 7, 2,4, 6, 5. 5- 5. 2 6, 5, 4, 6, 5, 6, 7, 5,4! 6, 5, 5, 5, 7! 6, 4, 5, 2, 2, 6, 7, 4, 2, 5, 6, 5, 2, 6! 2, 6, 5,4, 5? 5, 7, 6, 5, 5, 2, 6, 2, 6, 5,4, 5, 2, 7, 2, 2, 7, 7,4, 2, 5, 9, 2, 2, 2,4, 5, 2,4, 5, 5, 6, 5, 2,4,6, 5, 5, 5, 2! 4, 5, 2,4, 5, 5,6, 5! 5, 6, 8, 3? 5, 5. 6, 5, 5, 2, 6, 2, 6, 3,4, 5, 8, 3, 8, 2, 3, 3,4, 8, 3, 9, 2, 8, 8,4, 3, 2,4, 3,4, 6. 5, 5,5,2! 4, 5, 2,4, 5, 5, 6, 5! 6, 5,4, 5? 4, 5? 5, 5, 6, 5, 5, 2, 6, 2,6, 3,4, 5, 8, 3, 8, 2, 3, 3,4, 8, 3, 9, 2, 8, 8,4, 3, 2,4, 3, 3, 6, 3, 8,4,6, 3, 3, 3, 8! 4, 3, 2,4, 3, 3, 6, 3, 8,4! 6, 3, 3, 3, 6, 7,4, 2, 5, 6, 3, 8, 7, 2, 6, 3,4, 3? 5, 7, 6, 3. 5, 8, 6, 2, 6, 3,4, 5, 8, 7, 8, 2, 7, 7,4, 8, 3, 3, 2, 8! 7, 7,4, 8, 3, 3, 2, 8, 3, 4. 3. 2- 4- 7. 6, 6- 7. 8,4, 6, 8, 3, 8, 8, 6, 3,4, 6, 3, 6, 7, 3,4, 6, 7, 7, 4, 8, 3, 3, 9, 8, 8,4, 3, 2,4, 5, 7, 6, 7, 8,4, 6, 3, 5, 5, 2, 6, 9,4, 6, 5, 6, 7, 5,4, 6! 5, 4,5,2,7,2, 2,7,7,4,2, 5, 5, 2, 2,2,4,5,2! 7,2, 2, 7, 7,4,2,5, 5,2, 2, 2,4, 5, 2,4, 7, 2, 2, 7, 2,4,6, 5, 5,5,2,6, 5,4,6, 5, 6, 7, 5,4! 6, 5, 5, 5, 7! 6, 4, 5, 2, 2,6, 7,4, 2, 5,6, 5, 2,6! 2,6, 5,4, 5? 5, 7,6, 5, 5, 2,6, 2,6, 5,4, 5, 2, 7,2,2,7,7,4,2,5,9,2, 2,2,4, 5,2,4! 5,6,8,3? 5,5,6, 5,2,4,6,5,5,5,2! 4. 5.2.4. 5. 5.6. 5! 8,6, 3,9,6, 3,6,6, 3,4,6, 5, 3, 5, 3, 2, 2, 3,3,2,6, 3,4, 2, 5,6, 3, 8, 3, 2, 6, 3,4, 3? 5, 6, 8, 3? 5, 3, 6, 3, 5, 8, 6, 2, 6, 3,4, 5, 8, 3, 8, 2,3,3,4. 8, 3. 3. 2,8! 3, 3,4,8, 3, 3, 2, 8, 3,4, 3, 2,4, 7,6,6, 7, 8,4,6, 8, 3, 8,8,6, 3,4,6, 3! 2, 2, 7, 7,4,6, 7,4, 2, 5,6, 3,8, 7, 2,6, 3,4, 3? 5, 7,6, 3, 5, 8,6, 2,6, 3,4, 5, 8, 7,8, 2, 7, 7,4, 8, 3, 3, 2,8! 7, 7,4, 8, 3, 3, 2,8, 3,4, 3, 2, 4, 7,6,6, 7,8,4,6,8, 3,8, 8,6, 3,4,6, 3,6, 7, 3,4,6, 7, 7,4, 8, 3, 3,9, 8,8, 4. 3.2,4' 5. 7.6.7.8,4.6 3.5.5 2,6,9,4,6,5,6, 7,5,4,6! 5, 2,6,2,6,5, 9, 5, 2? 6, 9,6, 2,6, 5,4, 7, 5, 5,4, 5, 2,5,2,6,4,6, 2,4, 5, 2, 7, 2, 2, 7, 7,4, 2, 5, 5, 2,9, 2,4, 5, 2,6! 4, 2, 2,6, 5,4, 2, 5, 7,4, 5, 2, 5, 2,6, 2,6, 5,4, 5, 2, 7.2, 2,7,7,4, 2,5, 5, 2, 2,2,4,5, 2! 7, 2, 2, 7,7,4,2, 5, 5,2,2, 2,4,5,2,4, 7. 2, 2, 7, 2,4,6, 5, 5,5,2,6, 5,4,6, 5,6, 7, 5,4! 6, 5, 5, 5, 7! 6,4, 5, 2, 2,6, 7,4, 2,5,6, 5, 2,6! 2,6, 5,4, 5? 5, 7,6, 5, 5, 2,6, 2,6, 5,4, 5, 2, 7, 2, 2, 7, 7, 4. 2. 5. 9. 2. 2, 2,4, 5, 2,4! 5, 6, 8, 3? 5, 5, 6, 5, 2,4, 6, 5, 5, 5, 2! 4, 5, 2,4, 5. 5.6 5! 2.5. S. 2,9.2,4.5.2,6! 4,2,2,6,5,4,2! 5,5,6,5,5, 2,6, 2,6, 3, 4. 5.8. 3 8, 2, 3, 3,4,8, 3, 9, 2, 8, 8,4, 3,2,4, 3, 3,6, 3,8,4,6, 3, 3, 3,8! 4, 3.2.4. 3. 3.6. 3.8,4! 6, 3, 3, 3, 8,6, 3,9,6, 3,6,6, 3,4,6, 5, 3, 5, 3! 2, 2, 3, 3, 2, 6, 3,4, 2, 5, 6, 3, 8, 3, 2, 6, 3,4, 3? 5, 6, 8, 3? 5, 3,6, 3, 5, 8, 6, 2, 6, 3, 4.5.8. 3.8. 2, 3, 3.4.8, 3.3.2, 8! 2, 7, 2,4,6, 5, 5, 5, 2,6, 5,4,6, 5,6, 7, 5, 4! 6. 5. 5, 5. 7! 6,4, 5, 2, 2, 6, 7,4, 2, 5,6, 5, 2, 6! 2,6, 5, 4, 5? 5, 7, 6, 5, 5, 2,6, 2,6, 5,4, 5, 2, 7, 2, 2, 7, 7,4, 2, 5,9, 2, 2, 2,4, 5,2,4, 5, 5, 6, 5, 2,4,6, 5, 5, 5, 2! 4, 5, 2,4, 5, 5,6, 5! 5, 6, 8, 3? 5, 5, 6, 5, 5, 2,6, 2, 6, 3, 4, 5, 8, 3, 8,2,3, 3,4,8,3,9,2,8,8,4, 3, 2,4, 3, 3,6, 3,8,4,6,3,3, 3,8! 4, 3, 2,4, 3, 3,6, 3, 8,4, 6, 3! 5,6, 8, 3? 5,6, 8, 3? 5, 6, 8, 3! 4, 2, 2, 6, 5,4, 2, 5, 7,4, 5, 2, 5, 2,6, 2,6, 5,4, 5, 2, 7, 2, 2, 7,4, 5, 2,4,6, 3, 5,8,6, 2,6, 3,4, 5, 8, 7, 8, 2, 7. 7.4.8. 3. 3. 2, 8! 7, 7,4, 8, 3, 3, 2, 8, 3,4, 3, 2,4, 7,6,6, 7, 8,4,6,8, 3, 8, 8,6, 3,4,6, 3,6, 7, 3,4, 6, 7, 7,4, 8, 3, 3,9, 8, 8,4, 3, 2,4, 5, 7,6, 7, 8,4, 6, 3, 5, 5, 2,6,9,4,6, 5,6, 7, 5,4,6! 5, 2,6, 2,6, 5,9, 5, 2? 6,9,6, 2,6, 5,4, S.6. 5.2,4,6,5,5. 5, 2,7.4.2,5.5,2.2,2,4,5,2! 7,2, 2,7, 7,4,2,5, 5, 2, 2,2,4,5,2,4, 7, 2, 2,7, 2,4,6, 5, 5,5, 2,6, 5,4,6,5,6, 7, 5,4! 6, 5, 5, 5, 7!'

It took me a long time, I don't know how long, minutes, hours, my heart got tired, my finger did, I was trying to destroy the wall between me and my life with my finger, one press at a time, my quarter ran out, or she hung up, I called again, '4, 7,4, 8, 7, 3, 2, 5, 5,9,9,6, 8?' She said, 'Is this a joke?' A joke, it wasn't a joke, what is a joke, was it a joke? She hung up, I called again, '8, 4, 4, 7, 4, 7, 6, 6, 8, 2, 5, 6, 5, 3!' She asked, 'Oskar?' That was the first time I ever heard his name…I was in Dresden's train station when I lost everything for the second time, I was writing you a letter that I knew I never would send, sometimes I wrote from there, sometimes from here, sometimes from the zoo, I didn't care about anything except for the letter I was writing to you, nothing else existed, it was like when I walked to Anna with my head down, hiding myself from the world, which is why I walked into her, and why I didn't notice that people were gathering around the televisions. It wasn't until the second plane hit, and someone who didn't mean to holler hollered, that I looked up, there were hundreds of people around the televisions now, where had they come from? I stood up and looked, I didn't understand what I was seeing on the screen, was it a commercial, a new movie? I wrote, 'What's happened?' and showed it to a young businessman watching the television, he took a sip of his coffee and said, 'No one knows yet,' his coffee haunts me, his 'yet' haunts me. I stood there, a person in a crowd, was I watching the images, or was something more complicated happening? I tried to count the floors above where the planes had hit, the fire had to burn up through the buildings, I knew that those people couldn't be saved, and how many were on the planes, and how many were on the street, I thought and thought. On my walk home I stopped in front of an electronics store, the front window was a grid of televisions, all but one of them were showing the buildings, the same images over and over, as if the world itself were repeating, a crowd had gathered on the sidewalk, one television, off to the side, was showing a nature program, a lion was eating a flamingo, the crowd became noisy, someone who didn't mean to holler hollered, pink feathers, I looked at one of the other televisions and there was only one building, one hundred ceilings had become one hundred floors, which had become nothing, I was the only one who could believe it, the sky was filled with paper, pink feathers. The cafes were full that afternoon, people were laughing, there were lines in front of the movie theaters, they were going to see comedies, the world is so big and small, in the same moment we were close and far. In the days and weeks that followed, I read the lists of the dead in the paper: mother of three, college sophomore, Yankees fan, lawyer, brother, bond trader, weekend magician, practical joker, sister, philanthropist, middle son, dog lover, janitor, only child, entrepreneur, waitress, grandfather of fourteen, registered nurse, accountant, intern, jazz saxophonist, doting uncle, army reservist, late-night poet, sister, window washer, Scrabble player, volunteer fireman, father, father, elevator repairman, wine aficionado, office manager, secretary, cook, financier, executive vice president, bird watcher, father, dishwasher, Vietnam veteran, new mother, avid reader, only child, competitive chess player, soccer coach, brother, analyst, maitre d', black belt, CEO, bridge partner, architect, plumber, public relations executive, father, artist in residence, urban planner, newlywed, investment banker, chef, electrical engineer, new father who had a cold that morning and thought about calling in sick…and then one day I saw it, Thomas Schell, my first thought was that I had died. 'He leaves behind a wife and son,' I thought, my son, I thought, my grandson, I thought and thought and thought, and then I stopped thinking…When the plane descended and I saw Manhattan for the first time in forty years, I didn't know if I was going up or down, the lights were stars, I didn't recognize any of the buildings, I told the man, 'To
mourn