GONE…
In memory, of the brave men and women of 9/11.
Thank you for risking your lives to defending our country.




It was a gloriously beautiful morning, the sun was shining brightly, the temperature was just right and we were having my mom’s homemade, strawberry waffles for breakfast. Dad was off to work in the big city. He had to leave at 6:00 o’clock in the morning even before I got up, because he had an important meeting. I’ll never forget the kiss he gave me on the cheek before he left. Unfortunately, what was about to happen next, I will possible can’t forget. A tragedy that affected millions of people. A tragedy that will make history, it was Sep. 11th 2001.



Meanwhile, it was about 9 am that morning, when my four year old sister Mary Beth, turned on the TV and hollered “Mama, the big house went boom, the big house went BOOM!!!!” “What is she talking about Susie?” I immediately reacted, “I don’t know…. MOM come quick, they’re saying it’s a terrorist attack on the… the…” I couldn’t say anything, I burst into tears, because I knew it had to be a dream, in which I hadn’t woke up to the sun shining, and strawberry waffles. That it was not, could not be reality, until I saw the bright, red bulletin… Breaking News. “The what?” mom asked finally stepping into the room. “Honey what’s wrong?” Her eyes flickered to me instantaneously before she gave the television a glance. She had obviously thought Mary Beth and I were fighting again, until she saw my horrorstricken face. But I couldn’t rely on my voice to speak the tragic words, afraid it might crack or start a frenzy of tears. Instead, I pointed to the television screen, which was now fuzzy due to my on streaming tears. I can’t describe the pained expression on her face, tears overflowing her eyes, her mouth opened into a horror-filled expression, as if she were to scream. But no scream came, instead she sunk to the ground wrapping her arms around her knees, rocking back and forth. Soon I could no longer focus on her, or my innocent sister as she crawled on the floor with a smile on her face, misunderstanding my mother’s actions.


What we saw in front of us was the crumbling of the World Trade Centers. Both in comparison were ruined. Both holding hundreds of people inside. However at that moment we were only worried about just one. My father, was in the 2nd building and I had just watched his doom on television.




We prayed and prayed that he was alive, somewhere out there making his way home to us. We were not a religious family, but I had prayed every second of the way. We waited in dead silence, my mother still crumpled on the floor, Mary Beth playing with her toys. I envied my little sister at that moment, because she didn't understand the heart trenching, worried situation my mother and I were going through. She didn't understand we had just seen our dad die on national television. She didn't understand the pain as we just watched helpless, unable to do anything but hope, and watch the screen. She was innocent, and would continue to stay innocent until her mind develops emotions. at that moment, I'd have given anything for that ignorant, little mind. It seemed like hours of waiting to hear the announcements and reports. I was still on the couch in a dazed zone when we did. My daddy, Leo A Spencer was missing. That news is what made my mother’s head finally snap up. That news is what shook me out of my world of depression, it didn't last long before the news put me into a deeper, dark world of my own. there still was hope, but I did the calculations and in my head they sounded hopeless. That was when I lost it. For hours on end I heard the low drone of my mother’s voice speaking on the phone to hospitals, police stations, and every help center you could think of. None of the local buildings had heard from of seen my daddy. Later, my mother, Mary Beth, and I hopped into the car. We drove as close as we could to the towers, searching every sidewalk and alley. Eventually, the police stopped us from going further, and made us turn around. All the surrounding were blocked and barricaded with heavy cement blocks. We saw several men on the road, but none were my father.






At about 8pm, we decided to go back home and once again I heard the low whisper of my mother's voice on the phone. Mama was not about to give up, and I was determined to have my father back. I refused, no matter how many time my mom mentioned going to bed. She eventually gave up mentioning sleep, she knew it was useless to try and persuade me longer. I was thankful for that, I needed to focus on my dad, not something as silly as sleep. I had to know he was safe. I was aggravated, angered, lonely, and depressed. I was mostly angry at the world for making my life miserable, and destroying my family. At about three o'clock in the morning, my rage faded and was replaced with wild, crazy, sadness. Instantly, tears overflowed my cheeks, and memories of the morning before flooded my mind. I knew what I needed, and that was my father. But, since he was not reachable, I went upstairs to my parent’s bedroom and grabbed his favorite shirt from his dresser. I also grabbed a picture of him, needing to have his face in my mind. After retrieving the picture, I tiptoed quietly downstairs and sat back on the couch. I snagged my plush, purple blanket my dad had given me for my birthday, off the couch, and curled up with all my items. To fight my weariness, I thought of memories consisting of my father. Like the time I went fishing and dropped the pole in the river, and he swept me up in his arms cradling me and wiping my innocent tears. Or the time I broke my arm and was in the hospital, my dad was the only one that could make me smile through the pain. All the memories were exactly the same. My dad was always the answer, but this time my father was not an option, nor a solution. When four A.M. hit, I was still lost in thought process. With tears in my eyes, I finally let sleep carry me away from my world of hopelessness.


My heart was now a black pit of despair, full of broken promises, and useless wishes. I knew then I had no future. Instead, I had a beginning of a hopeless life. The world had won, and now it was crushing me. At that moment I had given up. Little did I know, it would all end in two hours.




The next morning, I woke up feeling groggy. Wishing, I would have never woken up to remember, I had no father to wake up to. I found my mom in the kitchen, feeding Mary Beth. That instantaneously made me angry, I had refused to eat. How could have we just sit around and pretend nothing had happened? I was furious. I was furious at mom, and Mary Beth for even stopping to think about food, or even being hungry. Especially, after our world had just been destroyed. I was also furious at god, for doing such a thing, to destroy my family, my home, and my world. How could he be holy, if he was so cruel?


Five hours had passed, in that time being; I had posted 347 missing posters, on 347 poles around the city. I had just got home when mom told me the terrible news, the police and firefighters never found my daddy. There was no sight of him. I was just as ambushed, tired, and crushed. I threw myself on my bed rethinking about him, and what he was doing. I didn’t get up until about seven P.M. that night.



I dragged myself out of bed and plopped on the couch, my eyes had run out of liquid to cry. Thinking to myself, my life was done, already wasted away. I was officially gone, not gone in reality, but gone in my mind. I thought of how it had been two days after what others call 9/11 and what I call the worst day of my life, or shall I say the day my life ended. I also thought of the others that had lost their loved ones in the same tragedy, I had lost my father. I knew I wasn’t alone in this horrible crime, but I felt alone. I thought of the brave men and women of firefighters and police that did everything in their power to help. I thought of how those men and women felt when they went in the building. I also knew some of those men and women had lost their lives saving others. Unfortunately, they didn't save mine.


Then, something occurred to me. Something I would have never wanted. When is it going to be, the funeral I thought. The Funeral. The funeral with a closed casket because, there is no body inside. The Funeral. The funeral with no person to stare at and cry over. The funeral with no reassurance, that everything will be okay, because no one knows or has any clue what to say. The Funeral. The Funeral...


Meanwhile, I sit on the couch for who knows how long, minutes, hours, or maybe even seconds. Who knows who cares? I’m lost in my own time zone, stuck in my mind, not even bothering to find my way out. I officially gave up on myself and everything around me, because what’s the point when everything is already, gone.


In all my mourning, I hadn’t realized the knock at the door and the excited squeals of my mother and sister. I got off the couch, to check and see what was happening, but honestly I couldn’t care less. Until that’s when I saw him… The familiar brown, wavy hair, the shape of his small perfect nose, his humongous sapphire blue eyes. And most of all, my favorite, little smirk, cocked to the side, a site I’d thought I'd never see again...


That was when I was sucked back into reality. Suddenly, my eyes regained liquid finally for joy, I was rejoiced. My heart was new, red, and unbroken. I ran as fast as I could in his arms and didn’t let go. I didn’t even notice his broken arm, I didn’t care. He was home, no longer missing, home, safe and sound. Mine forever and ever. My daddy was officially home. Home...