THE BLOG
09/15/2014 01:05 pm ET Updated Nov 15, 2014

The Day After the Day

I wrote this the day after 9/11 and it wound up being read all over the planet. It still rings true I think.

Angels Are Falling

There are 3,000 angels hovering over the world tonight, ready to fall, like quiet sighs, and it is our obligation to catch them with our hearts. That is not just embers and ash weeping from the shoulders of the broken skyline. That is angel dust falling. The phone calls that came from those who died, from inside those trembling towers and doomed planes were calls of extraordinary love. In that precise and clear moment, when they knew with absolute certainty that they were going to die, children called their mothers, husbands called their wives, mommies called their children and everyone... everyone was told that they were adored. Legacies dropped from the sky like fading fireworks. No one who died deserved to die. Not with that kind of passion and goodness. So it is our imperative to give purpose to both their lives and deaths. We have to gather up each one of those stilled hearts that are ready to fall from our skies and make them our own. Here is our job: from this point on, every one of us has 3,000 acts of love to accomplish in our lifetime, each moment to be completely dedicated to them. We are simply going to carry on their work. We are going to take on their wistful dreams. We will be the loving parents, the romantic husbands, the beloved wives and happy children that they once were. And with every kiss and every soothing touch and every single moment of light, we will remember them. We will feel their warm breath, gentle as mist, falling our our shoulders. We will be soothed by their invisible embrace. We will be moved by those perfect spirits that we were never blessed to know. The kind of love that was trapped in those planes and lost in those crippled buildings is still there. Nothing can destroy it. It is the essence; the force and truth of our existence. It's the very thing we feel when we are born. It's the explosive entrance of the brand new soul. It's the engine that keeps us going. It's the purest part of desire. It's the tiny hands that lovingly cradle our memories. It's the love that you need to feel when the pain is just too much to bear. It's that kind of love, that propels policemen and firemen; magnificent husbands and daddies, into certain hell. Just a few misdirected men created this disaster, but the rest of us know better. We are the ones who are ready to live life and to remember love. We are honor bound to our fallen comrades. Our fallen angels. Open up your arms tonight... and catch them.