Remembering September 11 #neverforget

I have to interrupt this regularly scheduled light-hearted blog … But don’t worry your pretty little head, next week there will be with more trials and tribulations of my Ex-pat Mommy Life in Serbia with, “The Case of the Wild Dog Epidemic.”

Today, I just want to remember.

It’s been eleven years. The 9/11 Commission and the Memorial are complete. America’s fought two wars. Thanks to Obama and Seal Team 6, bin Laden is dead.

 

 

Why do we have to hash and re-hash, and cry and commemorate every year? Isn’t enough enough already?

I’ll tell you why I want to remember my uncle Tom: I’m not 100% about what’s waiting for me after I die. But I do know that through our memories, people can live on in some small way.

 

 

Thomas Francis Dennis, Sr. (Jan. 28, 1958 – Sept. 11, 2001)

Tom was loved and cherished by so, so many people. He is survived by his wife and two children, five siblings, and many nieces, nephews, cousins and friends. At 43, he passed away far too young.

Since his kids were only six and four at the time, late in 2001, I sent them my photos of him, worrying that their memories of their dad would quickly fade. I don’t have many photos of him to share with you, so instead I’ll describe my favorite one.

Tom as the Easter Bunny

Picture a mop-haired, college linebacker dressed in only a red t-shirt and tighty-whities …

With a large ball of cotton stuck to his backside. (Did I mention Uncle Tom was a goofball?)

Hands emulating bunny ears, hoping around the living room on one leg—the other was still in a cast—on Easter morning.

Even though he was recovering from a bad car accident that would squash any pro-ball plans and leave him in chronic pain, Uncle Tom playfully entertained his young niece.

I’m smiling at the thought, at the same time I have a lump in my throat as I write this. But Tom would want us laughing today, and living life to the fullest. And, if that included a large, cold mug of Guinness, well, all the better.

Sharing Stories

My most vivid memories of Uncle Tom are from family gatherings—Tom telling a story and the rest of the adults laughing uncontrollably. Laughing so hard in fact, they were crying and falling of their chairs and complaining of potential broken ribs. Begging him to stop, because their stomachs hurt, and they were probably going to pee their pants.

Tom’s antics, his stories, his impish qualities should be remembered. We also shouldn’t forget his sense of responsibility to his family and friends. The stories of Tom cheering others when he was the one in pain, of standing up to bullies, of pranks and great golf games. He had something like five God-children, maybe more. People loved him that much, they wanted him to take care of their kids if they died.

Some may be sick-and-tired of remembering the terror attacks, but let’s pull together our collective memories of Tom Dennis. Please, take a moment, tell your favorite story about him below in the Comment Section.

Let’s know that even if he’s gone, he’s not forgotten.

Lastly, some words from The Boss (Magic, 2007)

Love is a power greater than death, just like the songs and stories told,

And when she built you brother, she broke the mold.

We can rebuild our mighty towers, but we can’t rebuild the soul,

When they built you brother, they broke the mold.

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Here are a few other posts I wrote to commemorate the 9/11 anniversary:

• Commemorating 9/11: Where Were You? (Warning: the story includes details and questions about what happened to Tom on that day)
• Trauma in Memoir - Why are so many memoirs about traumatic experiences?