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"Dear Daddy, I can still remember, like it was yesterday, that September morning when you called to me from downstairs to see if I wanted to catch a ride with you to the Staten Island Ferry. I yelled back, &amp;amp;#8220;Go ahead without me&amp;amp;#8221;&amp;amp;#8212;one of the biggest regrets of my life. What a gift you gave me, just being my father. You were there for me, doing the quiet things that mattered. Yes, you may have been in the backyard shooting hoops when the limo pulled up for my high school prom rather than doting on me in my frilly strapless dress, but earlier that day you&amp;amp;#8217;d laid out safe-sex pamphlets on my bed. Luckily, you and mom raised me to be sensible enough not to need to use them. You protected us kids, Owen and Thomas and me, from some of the harsher realities of life, even if that meant we occasionally got the wrong impression. I always thought you were cheap, only realizing later that you didn&amp;amp;#8217;t have a lot of money. You worked two, sometimes three, jobs to put us through 12 years of Catholic school. I truly believed you enjoyed collecting those empty cans from the beach, and that you took us to the Salvation Army (the Sally Boutique, you called it) to torture us. You demonstrated that family and love were the most important things of all. You were an auditor for New York State, with an office in the World Trade Center. On September 11, when I arrived at my own job at a Manhattan fashion PR firm, I went out onto the balcony and watched as the second plane crashed into your building. I gasped&amp;amp;#8212;and prayed that maybe you were at an onsite audit elsewhere. But a few nights later, as I lay in bed, you came to me in a dream, saying you were OK&amp;amp;#8212;and I knew they would not pull you from the rubble and that you were no longer with us. One year later, I went on a date with a kind, funny young man. On our second date we got engaged. It was simple and pure but deep and true, like your life was. I felt your presence as your brother walked me down the aisle on New Year&amp;amp;#8217;s Eve 2002. Now Ray and I have a son, Justice Richard, 7, and a daughter, Autumn, 5, and I know that you can see them. Today I&amp;amp;#8217;m something I never expected to be: a suburban soccer mom and teacher. Your offhand wisdom about what makes life meaningful guided me to a happiness that I could never have imagined. Thank you, Dad, for making me who I am and being with me always. Until we meet again, Love, Your daughter, Laura Laura Miuccio Lopez, 34, of Rahway, New Jersey, lost her father, Richard Miuccio. Today she teaches third grade. How to assist 9/11 families Want to help others who were directly affected by the attacks? Go to Tuesday&amp;amp;#8217;s Children, which provides support for the families, responders and others affected by 9/11. www.tuesdayschildren.org A father&amp;amp;#8217;s love: Orla Bowie and her dad, Martin John Coughlan Dear Dad, We didn&amp;amp;#8217;t know it would be our last embrace, but I hugged you extra tight that night, September 8. We were out to dinner and you did what you did so well: You listened and gave me sage advice. I was exhausted, teaching school and going to grad school at the same time. &amp;amp;#8220;If it causes you that much stress,&amp;amp;#8221; you said, &amp;amp;#8220;you should stop for a while.&amp;amp;#8221; It was just what I needed to hear. And with my hug came gratitude. You were a carpenter, an entrepreneur with little side businesses, a huge Elvis Presley fan, a lover of astronomy and, most of all, a father. In Ireland, as a young man, you&amp;amp;#8217;d lost your mom, sister, brother and nephew. As an adult, you moved Mom and us girls to America, to Bayside, Queens. Life in our new city was hard&amp;amp;#8212;so hard that when I was 13, I decided to run away from home. I was shy, insecure and lonely: the new girl who didn&amp;amp;#8217;t fit in at school. OK! I said to myself. I&amp;amp;#8217;ll go live with the homeless in Manhattan! So I just took off out the door and ran&amp;amp;#8230;fast! I was heading west. You chased after me. You were still several blocks behind me when you stopped, bent over, clutched your chest and yelled out that you couldn&amp;amp;#8217;t breathe. Fear trumped my furious rebellion&amp;amp;#8212; you were having a heart attack! I stopped and turned around. You limped with me back to the house. When I realized you&amp;amp;#8217;d just faked the heart attack, I was too relieved to feel betrayed. We talked and talked that night, just you and me. I learned how much our family meant to you, your fear of immigrating to America, your homesick love for your siblings in Ireland. That evening, you counseled me about the importance of working past fear and hardship, and you changed me. I wouldn&amp;amp;#8217;t run away. I&amp;amp;#8217;d stick it out. You lost your life at the World Trade Center, where you were on a two-day carpentry job. But your spirit lives on, Dad. Bill and I have three wonderful children: Sarah, Emma and, of course, William Martin (that&amp;amp;#8217;s right, the Martin is for you), who has inherited your compassion. One twilit evening near the eighth anniversary of 9/11, when he was six, William set up a cookie and lemonade stand and gave all the proceeds to a former pupil of mine who was battling cancer. That was your influence, Dad. I know you were smiling down from the clouds on that glorious evening. Love with an aching heart, Orla Orla Bowie, 37, of Syosset, New York, lost her father, Martin John Coughlan. Today she&amp;amp;#8217;s an elementary school reading specialist. How to assist 9/11 families Want to help others who were directly affected by the attacks? Go to Tuesday&amp;amp;#8217;s Children, which provides support for the families, responders and others affected by 9/11. www.tuesdayschildren.org The courage to go on: Vicki Nita with her husband, Cono Gallo Dear Cono, You were my first love. We met in high school, you asked me to a Bryan Adams concert&amp;amp;#8212;and that was pretty much it. Everyone said we were the perfect couple. We married at 25. You&amp;amp;#8212;with your business savvy&amp;amp;#8212;went to work in finance, eventually ending up at Carr Futures in the World Trade Center, while I became a kindergarten teacher. But I sold Avon on the side, and in my heart of hearts, I wanted to be a makeup artist. &amp;amp;#8220;Makeup artist? What kind of career is that for a girl with a masters degree?&amp;amp;#8221; my father asked. But you said, &amp;amp;#8220;Do what you want to do, Vicki, not what&amp;amp;#8217;s &amp;amp;#8216;appropriate.&amp;amp;#8217; &amp;amp;#8220; I was always a fearful person. The thought of changing careers scared me. Driving in heavy traffic scared me. You wanted to start a family&amp;amp;#8212;you would have been an amazing father&amp;amp;#8212;but the thought of being a mother scared me. We&amp;amp;#8217;d have a baby, we decided, when we reached our early thirties. In mid-2001, a few months before our fifth anniversary trip, you said, out of the blue, &amp;amp;#8220;If anything ever happens to me, I&amp;amp;#8217;d want you to find someone else and get married and be happy.&amp;amp;#8221; I burst into tears. &amp;amp;#8220;Nothing&amp;amp;#8217;s going to happen to you!&amp;amp;#8221; I cried furiously. Oh, Cono, the grief I felt when you died! The endless tears. After a year of unbelievable pain, it was just sadness, bottomless sadness. And then&amp;amp;#8212;finally&amp;amp;#8212;the bravery you had tried to bring out in me actually started to blossom. One day I surprised myself by driving myself into Manhattan. (Talk about scary traffic!) My destination: Bloomingdale&amp;amp;#8217;s. I walked over to the Shiseido counter and applied for a job. I was hired! But nothing scared me more than the prospect of dating again&amp;amp;#8212;I&amp;amp;#8217;d never dated anyone but you. Here, too, you led me. Shortly after I started my new job, I met a man named Eddy. He was funny and kind, and he even looked like you. When Eddy and I married a year and a half later, we said a prayer for you just before reciting our vows. We have your picture on our mantel today. And we have a wonderful four-year-old son: Enrico Cono. Cono, your spirit helped me conquer every fear I had&amp;amp;#8212;even the fear of losing you. I conquered it because I know in my heart we will meet again. Until we do, My love, Vicki Manuela (Vicki) Nita, 40, of Whitestone, New York, lost her husband, Cono Gallo. Today she is a married mom. How to assist 9/11 families Want to help others who were directly affected by the attacks? Go to Tuesday&amp;amp;#8217;s Children, which provides support for the families, responders and others affected by 9/11. www.tuesdayschildren.org The secret poet: Priscilla Davis with her father, Clinton Davis Hey Dad, I miss you so much and I wish you were here to see how I&amp;amp;#8217;ve grown. I was only 12 when you died, a brave Port Authority police officer. Mom talked to you just before you rushed back into the Towers to rescue the people inside. &amp;amp;#8220;I&amp;amp;#8217;ll be OK,&amp;amp;#8221; you reassured her. Daddy, you are a hero&amp;amp;#8212;my hero and the country&amp;amp;#8217;s. In Queens, they named the street you lived on after you. Every choice I make, it&amp;amp;#8217;s with your bravery in mind. And I&amp;amp;#8217;ve come to see how similar you and I are. Throughout my childhood I was constantly told, &amp;amp;#8220;I don&amp;amp;#8217;t know where you get this or that from!&amp;amp;#8221; Now I realize&amp;amp;#8212;it was all from you! I love to sing. Whenever I hear Harold Melvin and the Bluenotes&amp;amp;#8217; &amp;amp;#8220;Wake Up, Everybody,&amp;amp;#8221; I think about how you sang it to me every morning. Mom and I still watch that karaoke video of you singing Dobie Gray&amp;amp;#8217;s &amp;amp;#8220;Drift Away.&amp;amp;#8221; Just like you, I love all kinds of music. You also instilled in Clinton, Julian and me the importance of education: When each of us graduated high school, you&amp;amp;#8217;d say, &amp;amp;#8220;One down!&amp;amp;#8221; And here&amp;amp;#8217;s something else&amp;amp;#8212;I started off college as a math major, but you won&amp;amp;#8217;t believe where I ended up: criminal justice. Next May I&amp;amp;#8217;ll have my bachelor&amp;amp;#8217;s degree. That&amp;amp;#8217;s right, I&amp;amp;#8217;m going to be the first in the family to graduate college! But here is the thing I share most with you: When I was younger, I used to write poems all the time. I was never sure what urged me to start, I just did. Not long after you died, Mom and I went through your things and came across a whole stack of your poetry. We had no clue you wrote poems! I was so grateful to find this one: A MESSAGE TO MY DAUGHTER It&amp;amp;#8217;s so hard to be your daddy, I&amp;amp;#8217;m so far away!&amp;amp;#8230; I always miss seeing you, there&amp;amp;#8217;s so much to say&amp;amp;#8230; After I found those poems, I wrote you back: You asked me if I could feel the love grow The answer is yes! For no matter how far life has taken you away from me My love for you will never rest. Those last two lines are just as true now as they were when I wrote that 10 years ago, so I&amp;amp;#8217;ll sign this letter just as I signed that poem&amp;amp;#8230; Your loving daughter, Priscilla DeAnn Davis Priscilla Davis, 21, of Austin, Texas, lost her father, Clinton Davis. Today she is a senior at Texas State University. How to assist 9/11 families Want to help others who were directly affected by the attacks? Go to Tuesday&amp;amp;#8217;s Children, which provides support for the families, responders and others affected by 9/11. www.tuesdayschildren.org Hey, Zoe-Bear, It&amp;amp;#8217;s me, Ton-Bon. We were not only cousins but BFFs. When we played games, I was the pink Power Ranger and you were the yellow one. We were going to go to college together. And we pledged to be bridesmaids at each other&amp;amp;#8217;s weddings, with our matching squirrel Beanie Babies in attendance. You were the closest thing to a sister. It didn&amp;amp;#8217;t matter that we lived in different states, you in Maryland, me in Georgia. Our families took vacations together. You were eight and I was 10 the last morning I saw you, in July 2001, when we woke up in our room at the dude ranch in Aspen. We parted knowing we&amp;amp;#8217;d see each other again at Christmas. On September 11 your whole family&amp;amp;#8212;you, your mom and dad and your three-year-old sister, Dana&amp;amp;#8212;were all flying from Washington, D.C., to Los Angeles, but you never made it. Instead, your plane, American Flight 77, was hijacked by terrorists, who crashed it into the Pentagon. A big part of my world ended that day. But something happened a few months ago that helped me a lot. As we were moving my great-grandma&amp;amp;#8212;your Nana&amp;amp;#8212;into her assisted living home, she handed me a box. She said, &amp;amp;#8220;These are Zoe&amp;amp;#8217;s things. Pick what you want to keep.&amp;amp;#8221; I found your little scrapbook, and in it you had written, &amp;amp;#8220;My big cusin Toni is the coolest.&amp;amp;#8221; And I realized: That&amp;amp;#8217;s why I got honors every year in high school despite my pain, that&amp;amp;#8217;s why we&amp;amp;#8217;d do neighborhood clean-up projects and plant Zoe&amp;amp;#8217;s Zinnias in disadvantaged communities&amp;amp;#8212;I wanted to live up to what you thought of me, to keep you proud of me. I live my life as if you&amp;amp;#8217;re up there among the stars, looking down on me. And when my fianc&amp;amp;eacute;, Josh, and I marry in April 2013, our Beanie Babies will be there. When I have a daughter we&amp;amp;#8217;re going to name her Zoe Claire, because it rhymes with Zoe Bear, and I will tell her everything about you. Love, Your best friend forever, Ton-Bon Toni Guest, 21, of Watkinsville, Georgia, lost her cousin Zoe Whittington-Falkenberg; Zoe&amp;amp;#8217;s parents, Leslie Whittington and Charles Falkenberg; and Zoe&amp;amp;#8217;s little sister, Dana Falkenberg. Guest is now a student at North Georgia College &amp;amp; State University. How to assist 9/11 families Want to help others who were directly affected by the attacks? Go to Tuesday&amp;amp;#8217;s Children, which provides support for the families, responders and others affected by 9/11. www.tuesdayschildren.org"^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
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