7 comments/ 9669 views/ 2 favorites Angel, Guardian of First Responders By: SuperHeroRalph This is a Summer Lovin' contest story. Too many readers don't vote. Please vote. I need the support of your vote. I dedicate this story to my friend, who died that day, may he rest in peace, to all those first responders that keep us safe, to all those in the military preserving our freedom, and especially to those 22 Navy Seals who recently died in Afghanistan. Widow of 9/11 meets Angel, the guardian of the first responders' Twin Towers Memorial. * Along with the rest of the world, it would be nearly ten years ago that Christine watched 9/11 unfold on television. A date she will never forget and will always remember for the rest of her life, today was the first day that she was able to get out from under her sadness and confront her sorrow. As if it all happened yesterday, forever unfolding in her mind in the way of a reoccurring bad dream, even when she was awake, the events of that God awful day were still fresh in her mind. When asked during the countless interviews she gave, the face that the media had chosen because she was such a pretty, blonde haired and blue eyed, all American looking woman, Christine remembered she was sitting in front of the television eating oatmeal with blueberries, her favorite health food dish, when the first breaking newsflash interrupted her regular program. A plane had just hit Tower 1, the North Tower of the Twin Towers. She watched the tower explode in an inferno. Before she could wrap her brain around a plane hitting one of the Twin Towers, before she could realize how many people had just died, a second plane hit Tower 2, the South Tower. Horrified, she was stunned by all that she was seeing. Even though she had oatmeal every day for years, somehow equating the smell, the feel, the texture, and the taste of oatmeal with the horrible memory of that fateful day, she never ate oatmeal again. With drips and drabs of fast breaking information being reported, the realization of it all didn't hit her, until she saw a live feed from ground zero of people covered in ash and soot running for their lives. Knowing her husband was in the thick of it all, with the Twin Towers being his regular beat, she tried calling him but, with so many people on their cell phones, her calls wouldn't go through. Frantic with fright and panicked by fear, not knowing what else to do, she watched the just officially announced terrorist attack unfold on television. As if those two planes, American Airlines plane, flight #11, that crashed into the North Tower and United Airlines plane, flight #175, that crashed into the South Tower, were movie props trying to dissuade King Kong from clinging onto the Twin Towers, she watched in horror. As if what she was watching was some twisted, make believe, arcade video game of death, devastation, and destruction, not believing her eyes, she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Paralyzed with fear, she was stunned when the news reported that American Airlines, flight #77 had crashed in the Pentagon and it was rumored that United Airlines, flight 93, had been hijacked and shot down by our military, somewhere in Pennsylvania. How many more planes were out there waiting to hit their targets? They didn't know. How many more planes were waiting to take off to carry out their terrorist missions. They didn't know. With no one knowing anything, until later, they decided to make the sanely safe decision to ground them all. With her life teetering with the fate of her husband, in those next few, panic stricken hours, endless long days, and sleepless night that morphed together as one, hoping for the best, while expecting the worst, she didn't know if Rob was dead or alive. Suddenly sensing him taking his last breath and feeling the connection they had in life end with the death of him, she knew her life, as she knew it, would never be the same. She knew he was already dead. For two years afterward, in colorless, slow motion without sound, she relived the horror of that day every night in her nightmares. Unable to stop watching any of it, flipping channels from station to station to avoid commercials to record all of it in her mind's eye, while traumatized by all that happened, she wished she hadn't watched any of it. Glued to the television for days in the way that the rest of us were, not showering, eating, or sleeping, with the horror of her husband buried somewhere in that rubble, she had to numbly watch it all unfold with her own two eyes for her to believe what she was seeing. Disturbed from her sleep for so long afterward, feeling as if a giant monster grabbed her and swallowed her whole, she awakened to the dark, choking visions of the towers crumbling, the toxic cloud of ash pluming, and the dust billowing around her. Then, from watching all those people that lined the roofs of both towers, survivors who thought they were safe from the fires and flames, after being so temporarily removed from the extreme heat and toxic fumes, and hoping for help to get down on the ground and receiving none, there were those nightmares, too. She dreamt she was atop one of the Twin Towers reaching out for her husband's hand, as the helicopter that tried to save them couldn't because of the thick smoke, the intense heat, and the downdraft, and had to fly off to save itself from crashing. At first, with the towers so tall, on fire and smoking, burning, exploding, and shaking, and with the video shot so far away and the leap so very high up, she thought it was bits of paper being blown from the roof that fell. She was horrified, when the television reporter told her that it was people jumping from the roof with some landing on and killing those people on the ground below. Falling, falling, falling, and falling, that night she dreamt she fell one hundred and ten stories. Falling, falling, falling, and falling, never to see their loved ones again, she couldn't even imagine the horror those people felt knowing they were going to die. Falling, falling, falling, and falling, strangers unified by the same fate of death, she imagined her body hitting the ground and her heart exploding in a million pieces, when they told her that her husband was dead. "Dead? Dead! Dead...he can't be dead." Living, crying, grieving, and somehow surviving, most times, she wished she were dead, too. If her nightmares weren't her new reality, her reoccurring visions would be less horrific. Only, she awakened with the knowledge that her husband was in the midst of all that. Watching the towers crumble, watching them fall to the ground in a big cloud of ash, hearing New York rumble, and feeling the Earth shake was only overshadowed by the unforgettable sight of so many people running, the sound of so many people screaming, and the knowledge of so many people dying. From car alarms to the wails of police, fire and ambulance sirens, the never ending array of unanswerable distress signals gave her an internal headache that never stopped, even when she covered her ears, and even after taking painkillers. As if all of New York was under siege and burning, fear paralyzed everyone except for all of those first responders, who continued doing their jobs nonstop to find and to attend to survivors. Unable to breathe, suffocating in her sleep, as if she too were buried alive, too, she awakened gasping for air with the realization that it wasn't a dream and her husband was still dead and gone forever. Having to relive the loss of him over and again in her nightmares, paralyzed with grief, she never felt such soulful pain and sorrowful sadness. Hurting everywhere, she felt as if she was the sole survivor of a horrible car accident. Feeling as if she was split in two with one side of her body still doing Earthly things and the other side numb and wishing she were dead, too, somehow, she survived. Somehow, she continued with her life without him. Tired of playing the what if game, replaying the events of that morning over again in her head, she wished her husband had called in sick that day. She wished he had forgotten his lunch or his cell phone, in the way that he left her behind, and had to return home to give her one, last kiss and one, long hug goodbye that may have saved his life. If only he had lingered longer to make love to her, their love may have spared him then, in the way that it tore her apart now. If only he had a doctor or dentist appointment, fate may have intervened and saved him. If only they were on vacation, God may have sparred him, but he took his vacation to marry her. Now that he's gone, there were so many things left unsaid and so many things that she needed to tell him. Hoping she did and knowing he'd know if she hadn't, she couldn't remember if she told him she loved him, when he left for work that fateful day. Fearing the worst, while pretending that he wasn't dead, she knew he was one of the first responders who responded. Even though she prayed that he'd come home safe to her, no one had to tell her that he'd never come home again. Wishing they'd spare her the hurt, an echo that endlessly replayed in her head, the words of his superior officers and the chaplain were painfully redundant when they told her the bad news in person. "Dead? Dead! Dead...he can't be dead. We were just married and were supposed to start a family. We were saving for a house. We had reservations for dinner. His parents were coming for Thanksgiving. We were looking forward to our first Christmas together as husband and wife. We still haven't received our wedding pictures and opened some of our wedding gifts." She surrounded herself with those families she knew were in the same, sad situation as she was. As if having a 24 hour open house with her support team, the diversion they brought to her day eased her load by giving her temporary solace with the thoughts that life continues after death and that her sorrow wasn't just about her but about others, too. Even though they were still searching and hoping for survivors, even though others manned their vigils hoping their loved ones somehow survived the crush of a fallen skyscraper and had somehow found a pocket of clean, breathable air to keep them alive, until they were dug out, a blessing in disguise was when they found her husband nearly right away. Not even used to the idea that he was missing, knowing now that he was officially dead, their abrupt notification of his death ended her hope as a loving wife of him surviving and prematurely started her grief as a grieving widow. She didn't need to officially hear that they found his body and that he was dead. They didn't have to tell her that he was gone forever. When that first tower fell, her heart broke, and she knew Rob was already dead. As if their hearts were beating as one, as if they were identical twins forever tied together by the same egg, as if it was her last one, too, she felt him take his last breath and somehow heard him say, "Goodbye. I love you." With phone lines down and cell phone towers overloaded, she tried calling and calling him. Then, they announced on television and on the radio for everyone to remain off the phones and to keep them for emergency use only. Now, no longer able to call him, still trying to call him nonetheless and feeling guilty every time she tried, after the city's warning that everyone stay off their phones, other than to go down there with the rest of humanity and maintain a vigil, she didn't know what else to do. Before they had notified her of his death, when he didn't return her calls, with the dust cloud forever lingering and still blocking the sun, no longer hoping for the best, she figured God couldn't receive her prayers to answer them. Maybe there were just too many prayers and she had to wait her turn for God to answer them. She called his friends, his co-workers, and the station, but all the first responders were forever gone with him, too. As if a plague had descended upon the city, as if a dark cloud of evil covered the landscape, the days melded with the nights in the way of a nuclear winter. Raining ash for hours, days, and weeks, a slimy film covered everything and everyone needed a mask to breathe. Beyond hope, a time only for prayer, knowing now that he was already gone and gone for good, never to walk through their front door again, all she had left was her faith in her God, along with the memories of him. Her best friend, Jennifer, stayed with her throughout the whole ordeal. At times, they even slept in the same bed and held one another, as if they were lovers. Yet, even though she was never alone and was always comforted by friends and/or accompanied by relatives, she felt so alone and lonely without her husband, her best friend. It was on those first few nights, when she put her head on her pillow and tried to sleep, that the horror of him being gone pained her heart with sadness. It was on those first few cold nights, when he was no longer there to spoon her, to touch her, to hold her, and to tell her he loved her, that she died with him. It was on those first few mornings, when she awakened without having him there next to her and touched his cold pillow, that filled her with grief all over again. After she stopped taking sedatives, those first few days and nights turned into weeks and months, before she came to terms with the final realization that he was gone forever and never coming home. Going through the motions of suddenly having to live her life alone, after thinking she had it all, reliving her nightmare without break, she had so few memories as a married couple to cherish, after Rob died. Looking so much like something dug up from a grave, covered with dust and ash that turned his dark blue uniform to chalky grey and his face a ghostly frozen image, she was numb when they found his still body. A man, who was once so full of life, laughter, thoughts, ideas, and conversation, she had a hard time understanding that he was dead. None of it made any sense to her. "Dead? How could he be dead? He's not dead. He's dead." She's never seen him so quietly motionless, so still and so peaceful. He looked like a coal miner taking a nap on the job. Even when he was sleeping, he tossed and turned and talked in his sleep, no doubt, from the stress of his job. "Wake up! Wake up, Rob. You're not dead. This is just my nightmare. Please, wake up." Nearly unrecognizable after being crushed by chunks of the building, his bones broken, his cute nose crushed by a rock, his teeth missing, and his face disproportionately swollen and badly bruised, maybe they made a mistake. Maybe this isn't Rob, but someone else, someone else's husband, someone else's brother, someone else's son, and someone else's friend. When she identified his remains by the possessions he carried in his pockets and by the tattoo he had on his shoulder, she knew they made no mistake. She knew this was her Rob. With the whole country treating him so much as the fallen hero that he was, prescribed sedatives to help her with her husband's transition from life to death and her transition from loving wife to saddened widow, she was numb through the funeral. Too much to bear, she was numb at every ceremony and service she attended for all those brother police officers, Port Authority police officers, firefighters, and EMT's they found. As if those first few months, after Rob's death was a horrible nightmare that never ended, she made it through her days in a velvety haze of prescribed sedatives, survivor support groups, and psychological therapy. Having socialized with the families of other first responders, the tragedy touched nearly every family she knew. There'd be no more barbeques, pool parties, birthday parties, and celebrations, not for a long while. There were just tears and fears that their worlds, as they all knew it, came to a crashing end with the fall of those twin towers. She was still numb when they invited her to the White House to posthumously receive her husband's Medal of Valor. Now, officially, by the officious office of the President, Rob was a hero and she was a widow. Finally, after all the funerals, the interviews, and the hoopla, she was all alone with herself. Unable to live in New York anymore. Afraid to leave her apartment for fear that a building would fall on her, too, once she received her settlement from the 9/11 Survivors' Foundation, she moved to the safest city she could find, Hershey, Pennsylvania. It was a place she visited as a small child and always remembered it as being safe and fun. Returning to a time when she was the happiest and to a place of innocence, roller coasters, and chocolate sweets, even if it was a facade, she needed to recapture that feeling of safeness and security to survive. Not knowing what it was, the first time she heard it in the distance, a long, low, loud sounding siren, it scared her out of her wits. Hershey, as did most of the surrounding communities had volunteer firefighters and the siren was the city's way of summoning the volunteers, whenever there was a fire and/or other emergencies. Even after she knew what it was, as if dreaming it in her nightly nightmares, the sound of it was an eerie reminder of all the sounds she heard on 9/11, that fateful day, all the tragedies she imagined these first responders were rushing to, and all the dangers they faced when they got there. Her neighbors told her there was a similar siren, one used by the nuclear power plant at Three Mile Island, if ever there was an emergency. Her neighbors told her that the Three Mile Island siren didn't stop, as did the fire siren, when all the first responders were in place. Her neighbors told her that if she ever heard that siren, just to get in her car and flee. Only, after having already lived through one such horrible tragedy, having experienced the uncertainty and survived the panic once before, this time, she'd rather just stay put and not be part of the long, desperate horde of panicked people trying to flee the city at the same time. After losing her husband and her life, as she knew it, she'd rather just turn on the stereo, pour herself a glass of wine, and kiss her ass good-bye. As soon as she bought her townhouse, feeling so alone and lonely, she adopted a dog, a miniature Toy Poodle and named her Kisses. Having dated Rob and having lived together since forever, but not married long enough to have had children, they were saving a down payment to buy a house. Barely beginning their first year of marriage before 9/11 left her a widow, her dog helped her through those bad days and lonely nights. Never without her dog, always afraid that someone or something would hurt her too, Kisses slept at the foot of her bed. Still hurting after so many years, finally venturing out of her safe haven and fashioned cocoon, she was now strong enough to return to New York to visit the 9/11 Memorial. Leaving behind a lot of memories, she was strong enough to face them all now. New York was the place where she was born, lived, and worked, and the place where her husband had died. Not wanting to go there for the ten year anniversary, figuring she'd go now, before all of humanity descended upon New York to mourn the occasion by remembering their lives and celebrating the dead, she didn't want to be part of the crushing crowd and the maddening mob. She wanted to avoid seeing old friends, those survivors who were still just as sad as she was, who'd make her relive the memories of better times, and who'd make her feel bad all over again for the misery she still felt now. Other than staying with Jennifer, Christine wanted to be alone and had wandered the crowded sidewalks of New York for hours. Basically still the same, it was strange to see how little New York had changed in ten years, especially with the Twin Towers and the surrounding buildings leveled. Finally returning home, Jennifer opened the door for Christine visiting Manhattan for the first time, since moving from New York to Hershey, Pennsylvania and gave her a big hug. Angel, Guardian of First Responders "I was worried sick about you. I knew I should have come with you," said Jennifer. "I know and I'm sorry to have worried you," said Christine. "Where were you? You've been gone for hours," Jennifer looked at her friend with the concern of a mother. "Even though I had no intention of going there so soon and going there alone, as if drawn to it, I went to see the 9/11 Memorial," she said looking at Jennifer and looking as if she was about to cry. "I figured you would, but I would have thought you'd ask me to come along with you for moral support," said Jennifer stroking Christine's soft, blonde hair. "Thank you but, except for Kisses, I needed to be alone," said Christine pausing with sadness and allowing the images of the 9/11 memorial to fill her mind with as much sorrow as it did comfort. "When I saw the memorial it was so powerful, overwhelming actually, seeing something so big and beautiful emerge from all that ugly rubble and twisted metal. Somehow I felt better knowing a piece of Rob was there, if only in spirit. Just as I closed my eyes to feel him and to talk to him, I lost Kisses," said Christine beginning to tear up and squatting down to give her chocolate, miniature Toy Poodle a big hug. "You lost Kisses? Kisses got loose?" "Yes," said Christine, still hugging her dog. "Oh, my God," said Jennifer looking at her friend with worry, before scolding her. "You have a cell phone, why didn't you call me? I would have helped you look for her." "Suddenly in panic mode, as if I were cursed and going through that horrible day all over again, I tried calling you but, I couldn't get reception where I was at the Memorial pools. It was weird because I've always had good reception at the Twin Towers before, when I lived here. Even though all my bars were lit, my phone kept coming up that the call failed. As if something was interfering or someone was blocking them, my calls just wouldn't go through." "What do you mean something or someone wouldn't allow your call to go through?" Jennifer gave her friend a look of fright. "Rob always said that I was on the cell phone too much. He said if he died before me, the only call he'd allow me to make is to Heaven to talk to him or to God," she said with a laugh. "When I couldn't make the call," said Christine beginning to cry, "I figured it was Rob blocking my call, so I asked God for his help. I asked God to send Rob to Heaven." "Oh, my God, Christine," said Jennifer hugging her friend again with both women crying. "I asked God to help me find Kisses," said Christine breaking the hug to wipe the tears from her eyes. "I asked God to send me an Angel to help me through this horrible day. As if there was a curse over my head, after visiting that terrible location, too much to bear, I couldn't survive losing my dog at the same place where I lost my husband," said Christine beginning to cry again. "Come inside," said Jennifer closing and locking the door behind her friend. "I'll never get used to that again," said Christine wiping away her tears with a tissue, while watching her friend bolt all three locks on her apartment door." "Get used to what?" "Locking your doors and windows and setting an alarm every time you leave or go to bed in your apartment," said Christine with a secure smile. "I feel so safe and relaxed where I am that I don't even lock my door, when I go out to walk Kisses." "They don't have crime in Pennsylvania?" Jennifer looked at her friend and laughed. "Of course they do, but not so much in Hershey and the surrounding communities that are far enough from the Susquehanna river. People don't even litter in Hershey. It's one of the cleanest cities in the nation. Maybe because of all the tourists that go to Hershey Park, our police department makes sure we're all safe," said Christine suddenly looking sad. "Only--" "Only, what Christine?" "After returning here and reliving the sights, the sounds, the smells, and suddenly wanting to attend a Yankee's game, I miss New York. I love New York. I miss the different cultures and races mixed together in one giant city that everyone calls New York and so many call home. Where I live now is so damn quiet and I'm still finding it difficult to adjust to the relaxed lifestyle. More rural than urban, it's so different in Hershey," she said with a laugh. "How so?" "In Hershey, there are so many police around and on duty that they respond very quickly. In Hershey, the only black people I've seen are tourists, the kids that live in the orphanages, and workers at The Hotel Hershey that drive up from Harrisburg. The only Hispanic people I've seen are the pickers that the farmers hire to pick their crops. Hershey, a city of milk chocolate and dark chocolate, a city where giant Candy Kiss replicas hang from every light pole along Chocolate Avenue is a little too white for me," she said with a laugh. "Yeah, well, you're lucky that your police force responds so quickly. Unless I was being raped and murdered, it routinely takes the police, usually one old, fat, gray haired and red faced cop, half an hour or more to respond to a 911 call," said Jennifer with a sad laugh. "Even then, if I'm not dead or nearly dead, he has an attitude because my elevator was out and he had to climb up so many stairs," said Jennifer with a laugh. "It's different in Hershey. The police respond in force with a full complement of police officers for the smallest infraction. Maybe because there's something in the air from those Three Mile Island smoke stacks, but most of the crime is closer to Harrisburg. Because of drugs, they have a shooting or stabbing there every other day." "Yeah, well, I'm glad you live in La La Land, but some of us must live in the real world," said Jennifer to her friend with a laugh, "and not in Disneyland, Disney World, or on Chocolate Avenue and in Hershey Park." "Oh, my God, Jen, I was so frightened," said Christine sitting down and sinking in the soft comfort of the sofa. "I haven't had that feeling of loss, not that I'm comparing the loss of my dog to the loss of my husband, since Rob died," she said pushing her long, blonde hair back from her face. "I know," said Jennifer leaning down to give her friend another hug. "It was so brave of you to go there alone. Let me get you something to drink." Jennifer handed her friend a glass of cold water and watched Christine slowly drink. "You must have died in this heat and humidity. August is always so bad here," said Jennifer grabbing up her mahogany hair and tying it in a long ponytail. "Hershey is hotter in July than in August, but you have more humidity in New York and your concrete buildings and sidewalks act as an oven to bake everything hotter longer. Where I live off the golf course is mostly surrounded by farms, open fields, and cornfields, along with a backdrop of Milton Hershey's orphanages and the endless array of Hershey Medical Center buildings that dot the distant landscape," she said with some new found pride. "It sounds beautiful," said Jennifer. "It is. Between the farms, the big lawns, and the manicured townhouse communities, it's all so very landscaped. Except for Central Park, what you don't have in New York are all the mature trees that we have to shade us from the sun. You need to come for a visit," said Christine pulling on her friend's hand. "With the acres of landscaped grounds, sometimes feeling as if I'm walking the grounds of a sanatorium, it's all so very serenely beautiful and peacefully relaxing. If I was to imagine Heaven, Hershey would be it." "I know I should take a vacation and relax, but with the economy the way that it is, I'm afraid to take a week off for fear they'll let me go. Walking around, as if on eggshells, I've just been taking personal days as vacation days. I'm just glad you two are okay," said Jennifer hugging her friend and rubbing Kisses' head. "Tell me what happened. Start from the beginning," said Jennifer. "I was out of my mind, Jen. I thought she was hit by a car, a truck, or a bus. I thought she was lost in this huge city or stolen. I thought I lost her for good." "Oh, my God, I would have been out of my mind, too," said Jennifer. "I was," said Christine picking up her dog, sitting her on her lap, and hugging her. "After Rob died and being so alone and lonely, I couldn't bear to lose her too, not now with the tenth anniversary looming and all the news coverage they'll, no doubt, endlessly show on television. Being alone without Rob is the reason why I got this dog, in the first place, nearly ten years ago, and it figures that a fellow police officer, one of New York's finest, would find my dog, where Rob died at the World Trade South Tower," she said with a soft smile. "Wait. A police officer found Kisses? A New York cop?" Jennifer looked at her friend with an expression of foreboding. "Yeah, can you believe that? Of all people," she said with a laugh. "Where exactly did he find her?" "Right there at the South Memorial pool, where she ran away. She must have returned there looking for me, when I was off frantically looking for her. She's such a smart, little dog," said Christine rubbing Kisses' head and giving her some love. Jennifer looked at her friend, as if she had seen a ghost. "What exactly did that police officer look like?" Biting her lip again, Jennifer looked at her friend with obvious trepidation and covered the reason for her question with a smile and another question, while waiting for Christine to speak. "Was he cute?" "Very cute, handsome actually," said Christine wide-eyed and smiling. "Tall and broad shouldered, he had yellowish-white hair and eyes that appeared to change color with his emotions. Actually, at first, a bit pale, nearly translucent actually, and lacking so much pigmentation in his resemblance of an alabaster statue, I thought he was Albino but, upon closer inspection, he had more color than that." "Interesting, yet strangely familiar," mumbled Jennifer under her breath. "Pardon?" "Oh, nothing. He sounds interestingly different, I said," said Jennifer covering her misspeak. Maybe it was the reflection of the sun but, as if I was viewing the aurora borealis, a kaleidoscope of color, his eyes changed colors from piercing blue to brown to green to gray. With his uniform crisply ironed, his shoes shined, his brass badges and buttons brightly polished, and his fingernails neatly manicured, he looked like a model on a police recruiting poster. Actually, Angel was very nice." "Angel?" Jennifer turned pale with the mere mention of his name. "His name is Angel? You're kidding?" "Yeah, I mean, no. Why? His name is Angel. I like the name, Angel. He's my dream Angel," said Christine clutching her hands to her chest, batting her eyes, and smiling, as if she was a school girl in puppy love. "He's so dreamy." "Tell me, where exactly did you first see this Angel...person again?" Jennifer looked at her friend with concerned shock. "At the South Memorial pool. Standing there with his hands on his hips and looking so much like a blonde haired Superman, he looked as if he was guarding the place. The only thing missing from his stature to punctuate his name were wings," she said with a laugh. "Yeah, if I were to imagine a Guardian Angel watching over that God forsaken place, perfectly cast for the role, for sure, especially by his name, he'd fit the stereotypical part of an Angel and guardian of the first responders." "Oh," said Jennifer with her eyes bulging. She turned away from her friend to support her weight on the sink and allowed her head to fall. "We'll never know God's grand plan," she said as if suddenly possessed by religion. "It just helps to believe that there's a reason for everything and a reason for God to take Rob, when he did. The good die young," she said bowing her head in prayer and signing herself. "The good die young." "Well, whoever he is, he was very nice and we even made a date," said Christine with a big smile and with stars in her eyes. "What?" Paled by her look of horror, Jennifer turned to confront her friend. "A date? You made a date with an, I mean, with...Angel? No way!" "Why?" Christine looked at her friend. "Why not? Don't you think I've been in mourning long enough? Don't you think I've been alone long enough? Do you dare deny me some happiness?" "Yes, of course, ten years is a long time to be alone and lonely, and I wish you eternal happiness, but you don't know anything about this guy, Christine. Your Mister Right could be all wrong," she said with obvious trepidation. "How bad could he be? He's a police officer. Besides, I have a good sense about him," said Christine with softness. "Somehow so special, he's different from all the other men I've met. As if I made him up myself, as if I envisioned my perfect man, he is that and so much more. And he's so wicked good looking." "Wow, he's sounds too good to be true," said Jennifer under her breath. "Knowing exactly what to say to make me feel better, he's kind and he listens to all that I have to say. Even Rob didn't always take the time to talk to me and show interest in who I am inside and how I'm feeling. Rob was always so stressed by his job and too busy working, sometimes to take the time for me," said Christine with sadness. "In the short time I've known Angel, just a few hours really, he's made me feel better. Suddenly, I have a renewed reason to live life anew. Somehow strangely feeling as if I met him in another life, I trust him." "I just can't believe your first day back in New York and you pick up a cop?" Jennifer looked at her friend with her jaw fixed and her eyes narrowed. "I didn't pick him up, Jennifer. Kisses did," she said with a laugh. "Actually, neither one of us picked up the other. It just happened, besides I can't help myself. With Rob being a New York cop, I've always had a thing for cops," said Christine with a dirty laugh. "I still can't believe you made a date with a cop, all of people, after all you've been through," said Jennifer with a laugh, while shaking her head and making a sour face. "Why you'd want to hook up with another man, who has such a dangerous and stressful job is beyond me," she said, as if trying to dissuade her friend from starting a relationship with Angel, no doubt. "Well, truthfully, it's not actually a date. I'm just prematurely hoping for a date. I'm hoping he'll ask me to dinner and then, who knows what after that. He volunteered to show me the 9/11 Memorial is all. I think he's on duty there. I think he guards the place," said Christine with a bashful smile. "I think he likes me." "Cool," said Jennifer biting her lip again with a look of concern on her face. "That place is so big, you'll need someone to give you a guided tour. Maybe he can help you." "Help me? What do you mean, help me?" "Help you to find whatever it is you're looking to find at the memorial is all that I meant by that," she Jen suddenly looking nervous and out of sorts. "I dunno, I have a funny feeling about this guy, Jen. There's just something about him. Eerily familiar, I think it may be more like kismet that we met. As if we were meant to be together, soul mates, love at first sight, I think he may be the one," said Christine with a hand to her heart. "Eerily familiar? Kismet? Meant to be together? Soul mates? Love at first sight? You think he may be the one? One What? Wait, hold on here, Christine." "What? I'm not allowed to fall in love again? I'm tired of playing the grieving widow, Jennifer. I need to move on without Rob. I've been so sad and so lonely. I need someone--" "Of course you, do, Christine, but don't go falling for the first guy who does something nice for you. Truth be told, I have a funny feeling, too, about you meeting Angel." "You do? What? Why?" "I can't say. I mean, I don't want to say." "What do you mean?" "No, I can't tell you. You'll think me crazy. You'll think that I'm just jealous that you finally found a guy that you like enough to make a date." "Tell me, Jen. What is it? Why would I think you crazy?" "I'll tell you after your semi date with Angel. Okay? Maybe then, I won't have to tell you. Maybe then you'll know. Maybe he'll tell you himself and I won't have to tell you." "Tell me what? You're freaking me out, Jen. You act as if you know this guy. Do you know Angel? Tell me what you know about him? Have you dated him? Is that why you're being so--" "No, I don't know Angel. I've never dated him. I've never even had the pleasure of meeting him, but I've heard some strangely unnerving things about him that I'd rather you found out for yourself. I'd rather you make your own judgments about him. Okay? So tell me," said Jennifer changing the subject. "How did Kisses get away?" "Well," said Christine giving her friend a questioning look, before continuing, "like everyone else who visits New York, I wanted to see the Twin Tower Memorial, but unlike the regular tourists, I had more of a personal reason to go." Christine's look of happiness, when thinking about Angel, turned to sadness, when thinking about her deceased husband, Rob. "I know," said Jen. "Other than to visit me, the 9/11 monument is the reason why you returned to New York." "It took me ten years to get up the courage to see where my husband died. I wanted to take a photo of his name etched in the memorial wall. Inscribed on bronze parapets that surround the South Memorial Pool, they have a whole section of first responder names of all those who were award the 9/11 Heroes Medal of Valor. Only, when I saw all those names, so very many names, hundreds of names, Jennifer, I started to cry. I couldn't stop crying and I couldn't stop shaking. Then, I remembered a bumper sticker of a car parked in front of me that read, 9/11, We Will Never Forget. Such an understatement, how I can ever besmirch Rob's name by even thinking about being with another man is--" "Don't be silly, Christine. It's been ten years. You need to get on with your life. If not with Angel, then with someone else. So, tell me, did you find his name?" "Yeah, I did. At first, when I started reading the names that are arranged by agency, I recognized some of them, friends, co-workers, and people that Rob mentioned. Then, it all got to me. I couldn't stop crying enough to even see the names through my tears." "Oh, you poor, poor thing," said Jennifer squatting down to give her friend a hug. "Then, as if taking me under his wing, so to speak, that was when Angel put his arm around my shoulder and gave me a comforting squeeze. As if whispering his words in my mind, without uttering them, his words were seemingly without sound, but I knew them, as if he had said them and as if they were my own thoughts. Mostly firefighters, Angel said that there are 418 names of police, fire, EMT's, and Port Authority police officers, and he knew exactly where to find Rob's name. So very weird, it was as if he had memorized them all and personally knew each and every one of those who died." "Apparently, Angel knows a lot about that monument and about those who died there that day," said Jen with awestruck emotion. "He does, Jen, he really does. Probably, from guarding the place for hours every day, he knows everything about the memorial" "So, tell me, how did Kisses get loose?" "Well, my car was right there, but it was too hot to leave her in the car, so I leashed her up and made sure she peed on a pole and a hydrant, before walking her over to the monument. Even though we stayed outside and never made it in to the museum, I didn't want her desecrating sacred ground by peeing on it." "There are a lot of dogs in New York and, other than Central Park, there's really no place to walk them," said Jennifer, "which is why, even though I'd love to have one, I refuse to have a dog," she said rubbing Kisses' head. "I can't imagine the horror you felt when kisses got away." Angel, Guardian of First Responders "I was sick to my stomach, Jen, just sick to my stomach," said Christine giving Kisses a kiss on her head. "Anyway, it all started after I had closed my eyes and said a prayer for Rob. Then, when I opened my eyes to set up my camera for some photos of the memorial, a big truck rumbled by and scared Kisses. Nearly dropping my camera, when I went to grab her, somehow she pulled out of her collar and bolted across the street and around the corner." "Oh, my God. Oh, my God," said Jen. "I would have died. There's so much traffic around there, everywhere in New York, and she's so small. She was lucky she wasn't hit by a car." "I know," said Christine hugging her dog and kissing the top of her head again. "Accustomed to walking with me off leash, she ran as if she was running through a cornfield. Kisses, here Kisses. Where are you girl? Kisses! Kisses? By the time I ran around the corner, she was gone." "Calling out Kisses like that, I'm surprised you weren't sexually accosted by one of our resident perverts that roam the streets looking for victims," said Jen with a sad laugh. "If I yelled out kisses in this neighborhood, I'd have a line of horny men rushing to kiss me, while grabbing my ass and feeling my tits." "Anyway, too far to walk, I returned to my car and slowly drove around lower Manhattan, circling around the last place where I saw my dog. With every other street a one way, I stopped and got out of the car to call her, whenever I thought I saw her and whenever I found a place to park. Kisses! Kisses?" "You must have been out of your mind with fright," said Jennifer. "I was, but I prayed. I asked God for his help and God gave me the strength to look for Kisses without falling apart. Up and down Vesey Street to the north, down and around the West Side Highway to the west, around Liberty Street to the south, and up Church Street to the east. Sixteen acres is a lot of ground to cover, especially in bumper to bumper traffic with a stop light or stop sign on nearly every corner. Around and around, after going around the block for the third time, I had just about given up hope of ever finding my dog, when I saw a New York City policeman standing by the South Memorial pool, exactly where I had been, and holding Kisses in his arms. An answer to my prayers, I couldn't believe what I was seeing." "You always had your faith," said Jennifer. "I never believed in God and religion, in the way you do." "It was a miracle," said Christine, squeezing Jennifer's hand. "I parked my car at the first space I saw, a block away, and ran. Kisses! Kisses! Thank God! Thank God!" "She's a good dog," he said in a soothingly calm voice, while rubbing her head, before handing her to me. "She's a smart dog, too. Rob would have liked her." "He startled me, floored me, actually, when he mentioned Rob's name. I looked up at him, as if looking at someone that I already knew, even though we had just met. Yet, never able to remember what he looked like before, that is, until you asked me if he was cute, I felt so calm standing there next to him." "That's so weird how someone can make you forget your troubles and feel at peace," said Jennifer with a soft smile. "I wish I could find someone like that." "When he asked me about Rob, I asked him if he knew my husband?" "No Christine, he said, but I know where to find his name. I know all the names. Along with all the others who were lost that day, he's the reason why I'm here," he said escorting me to his name. "Now that I think about it, I don't remember introducing myself and telling him my name, he just knew it. I don't remember him telling me his name either, I just knew it." "You're giving me the chills," said Jennifer. "Pardon?" "I said, finally meeting someone, you must be thrilled," said Jennifer. "With so many police officers in attendance, I figured maybe he saw me at one of the masses, remembered me from being interviewed on TV, saw my picture in the newspaper, or remembered me from one of the many ceremonies they had. Maybe he saw me at the White House being presented with Rob's medal, I don't know, but it was as if he knew me already and could see right through me to know who I am. It was surreal, Jen, and so very drawn to him, as if I was standing in the presence of someone good and powerful, he made me feel so happy and safe." "Christine, listen to me," said Jennifer fidgeting with her fingers. "I must tell you something." "What?" "Before you fall for this guy," said Jennifer pausing to take her friend's hands in hers, "there's something you should know about him." "What? What do you know about him that I don't know? You said you never met him. You said you never dated him. You said--" "Angel is not who you think he is," said Jennifer with a serious look. "What do you mean Angel is not who I think he is? How do you know who he is or isn't if you never met him?" Christine stared at her friend, while waiting for her to reply? "Who is he?" "From the rumors that I've heard, Angel is, well, an Angel. He was sent here to protect those lost souls that haven't yet found their way." "An Angel?" Christine looked at her friend, as if she had lost her mind or had been drinking. "What do you mean, Angel is an Angel? Don't be ridiculous. There's no such a thing as Angels...is there?" Hiding her shocked disbelief and wanting to believe her friend, she looked at Jennifer laughing and shaking her head, before looking at her in disbelief. "Sorry, Christine, but he's not of our world." "Stop it, Jennifer. You're scaring me. Why are you doing this, after I finally meet someone?" "I'm sorry, Christine." "If he's an Angel, with all the telephone conversations we've had and e-mails we exchanged, why didn't you tell me there was a Guardian Angel in New York watching over the Twin Tower Memorial. Huh? Answer me that." "I didn't want to upset you with rumored nonsense, Christine. I never figured you have a celestial experience with an Angel. What kind of insensitive friend would I be--" "If he was an Angel, Jen, how come an Angel sighting wasn't reported in the way that they report UFOs? He'd be all over the news and the press. There'd be every priest, nun, religious devotee, zealot, and politician making pilgrimages to New York, just to meet with him with the hopes he'd deliver their messages to God or have something to impart to them from the lips of our Lord Almighty." "Fortunately or unfortunately, not everyone sees him, Christine. For some inexplicable reason you were chosen. You are among a select few who have even seen him and the sighting of him has been written off as those distraught family members who want to believe their loved ones made it to Heaven. Except for you, no one has even talked to him or so much as come near him." "I don't believe you. Angel is as real as you are. Angel is human. Angel is a man and not an Angel." "You must believe me, Christine. You're a vulnerable, grieving widow. As if a mirage or a vision, he disappears as quickly as he emerges. Until you described him to me, no one has been able to describe him. They forget what he looks like, as soon as they see him. Few even remember his name." "You're wrong, Jennifer. Angel is a real man," said Christine with tears beginning to well up in her eyes. "I'm not wrong, Christine. I'm telling you what I know. Those who have seen him all say the same thing. They say that they saw an Angel with wings dressed as a police officer, which is how he got the name, Angel. Of course, those who haven't seen him explain the sight of him away with just seeing things and those who have seen him want to believe that their fallen heroes have the eternal protection of a personal Guardian Angel." "Well, when I saw him, he didn't have wings. He just looked like a man, albeit a beautiful man," said Christine in a voice that was full of doubt and suspicion that her friend was just pulling her leg. "I suspect he comes to you in the way you imagine what he looks like. I suspect, Angel is your idea of a dream man. I suspect he looks a little like Rob." "Now that you mention it, except for the blonde hair, he did look a little like Rob," said Christine wrestling with all that Jennifer had told her. "Then, why didn't I see his wings, when everyone said that he had wings." "Maybe because he talked to you, he hid his wings," said Jennifer with a shrug of her shoulders. "I don't know." "I don't understand. Why me? Why now?" "Maybe because you lost Kisses and asked for God's help. Maybe because you prayed for God to send you an Angel to make it through your day. Maybe because you prayed to God to send Rob to Heaven. Maybe, before he died, Rob prayed to God for an Angel to protect you but, whatever the reason, by being so chosen and so protected, you've been blessed." Christine returned to the memorial to keep her date with Angel. Giving her a personal, guided tour, he took the time to show her the grounds and told her many personal things about all those who had died there that day, things that only their relatives would know. Every day that she was in New York visiting her friend, Jennifer, Christine returned to the 9/11 memorial alone to sit with Angel by the South Tower memorial fountain and in sight of her husband's plaque. For those who saw her sitting there alone, she looked so much like a grieving widow talking to herself and/or to her dead husband and she was but, with Angel acting as her moderator to communicate from the world of the living to the world of the dead. She talked to Rob through Angel. Angel gave her the comfort she so needed to finally get on with her life. 9/11, we will never forget. * If you enjoyed the story, please vote. I need the support of your vote. So very many readers don't vote. Please don't forget to vote, make a comment, and/or add me and this story to your favorite lists. Thank you for reading, voting for, and/or making a comment on my story.