From: http://www.witnesstowar.org./Erin.html

Erin Greeson, Ohio, September 20, 2001

Having just left New York for some relaxation in my hometown of Oxford, OH, the clearest memory I have of the past week's many images is that of New York's Bravest working at Ground Hero and racing through town, weary yet strong and relentless.

On my last night in Manhattan I opted to spend time roaming the familiar downtown streets in order to say goodbye to the great and hurting city.

Every familiar sidewalk was a gathering place for grieving New Yorkers. Every street corner was fragrant with the meditative scent of a thousand candles and haunted by the sounds of voices singing patriotic songs in hushed and quavering tones.

Even the hippies and punk rockers in Washington Square Park were raising their voices and guitars to 'God Bless America.' It was comforting to join in the spiritual energy of an environment so drenched in
unified prayer.

Strangely enough, hardly anyone was crying.
Perhaps we had all cried too much in the recent past, or perhaps reality simply had yet to sink in for many of us.

The only point at which I cried that night was when I unexpectedly stumbled upon the enshrined facade of a firehouse. Out front was a vehicle completely
covered in a sickening grey ash, its body apparently crumpled by the impact of falling objects. At the firehouse, it was gut-wrenching to gaze at enlarged photographs of ruddy, smiling men who had selflessly run into those lost towers never to return again.

I knelt amongst the mourners, the stacks of flowers, the warmth of the flickering little fires, and the wax running in pools on the sidewalk. I lit a candle and I wept.

In a dreamlike state, I walked the streets and passed among throngs of sad and beautiful New York faces illuminated in the shifting candlelight. In addition to the living faces, there were also those staring back at me from thousands of rustling flyers and laser prints pinned to fences and lampposts: faces of young men holding new born babies, women in pristine wedding gowns, and smiling people of all walks of life.

These were silenced faces of the dead. Each picture displayed such vivacity, yet each grimly signified the
loss of a another precious life and another suffering set of loved ones. There were so many faces whispering and screaming to me. The numbers will remain in our minds and textbooks forever, but I will never forget those thousands of faces.

Despite how weary my mind and body had become after four days void of sleep-- four days of ultimate grief, bewilderment, and tension-- there are a few memories from that last night that are brilliantly clear.

The greatest is the vision of a large crimson fire truck
hustling down Broadway and the faces peering from its shadowed cabin. As the truck passed me on the corner of 8th and Broadway in a whirlwind of sturdy chins, helmets, and draped elbows, I felt an overwhelming urge to embrace those blessed people who were headed toward the smoldering expanse of carnage where the World Trade Center once stood.

Realizing that I could not physically reach
these heroes, I shouted my thanks, blew kisses, and flailed my arms as if waving to war-bound Marines. 'God Bless you!'

Their faces were vaguely lit by the passing streetlights and gardens of prayer candles, but I could see them smile at me. I shall never forget those smiles miraculously escaping drawn and weary faces and the
fleeting motion of several hands waving to me in response.

Everything was in slow-motion, as if I were living in a continuation of what had felt like a four-day dream sequence. But I shall never forget how unearthly those firefighters appeared, those men who found enough strength and hope within themselves to smile despite
the nature of the struggle they were knowingly approaching as they headed closer to the site.

I have now returned to my small midwestern hometown, and I am pleased to note that even people far from New York City are constantly speaking of the bravery and strength displayed by the
FDNY. I am eternally grateful to have lived in a city where complete strangers came together despite a remarkable degree of religious, racial, and socioeconomic diversity, a city where firefighters and many other appreciated workers emanated the
super human ability to step into the unimaginable for the sake of helping others.

I am so very proud of their strength, spirit, and
courage. They are all in my thoughts and prayers now and forever, for I realize that they will need continued support for many years
to come. In the face of great pain and evil, it is uplifting to know that the power of goodness, selflessness, and love for humankind prevails over all.

Thank you and God Bless You, to each and every one of those amazing people.