We were delighted that, despite the weather, so many people came out to join us at Citi Field for Tuesday’s Children’s 20 Years of Service Gala, where we honored the New York Mets Organization and New York Mets Alumni Edgardo Alfonzo, John Franco, Al Leiter, Bobby Valentine, and Todd Zeile and General Stanley McChrystal, USA, Retired.

It was also our please to present the Lifetime Supporter Award to Jay Horwitz, a longtime Tuesday’s Children supporter and liaison to New York Mets alumni.

A special thank you goes out to Dietrick Haddon, who provided the evening’s live entertainment, and to our emcee, Brooke Baldwin.

CLICK HERE to view our 20 Years of Service Gala photo album.

If you didn’t get a chance to attend, or simply want to relive this inspiring event, CLICK HERE to watch our official highlight reel.

IN CASE YOU MISSED IT:
Tuesday’s Children’s 20 Years of Service Virtual Gala streamed live on Thursday, 9/9. If you didn’t get a chance to tune in, CLICK HERE to watch now.

Tuesday’s Children’s Virtual Gala was an inspiring evening filled with meaningful and uplifting conversation. We’re so grateful to our 9/11 family members and Military Gold Star families who shared their personal journeys of resilience.

Tuesday’s Children was proud to honor General Stanley McChrystal, USA, Retired with our Exceptional Leadership Award and feature New York’s own Charlie Gibson as our host.

Whether you’re looking to relive the memorable moments or didn’t get a chance to attend, we hope you’ll tune in for this special highlight reel. CLICK HERE to watch now.

Photo courtesy Rosanne and Anne Nelson

Ten years ago, 100 family members penned emotional letters to the loved ones they’d lost on 9/11, looking back on the decade since the attacks and sharing their personal memories. Collected and published by the organization Tuesday’s Children, the “Legacy Letters” not only stand as a written memorial to the victims, but also tell a powerful human story that captures the almost unfathomable long-term impact of the day. This fall, we’re speaking with some of the families who contributed legacy letters in 2011 to ask about the evolution of their feelings and what they wish the world knew. 

Caitlin Nelson was five years old when she lost her father James, a Port Authority Police Department first responder. In the letter she wrote to him 10 years ago, she tells him she fears her memories are starting to fade. But, she reassures him, “You’re everything to me; you are bigger than a hero — you are a father who will never be forgotten … I swear I’ll be with you someday.”

Caitlin passed away six years after writing that letter.

Today’s blog post features a conversation with her mother Rosanne and sister Anne, who do their best every day to honor the memories of James and Caitlin.

Anne (left) and Caitlin as teenagers. Photo courtesy Rosanne & Anne Nelson.

What does “20 years” mean to you? How has your perspective changed? 
Anne: The pain never goes away, it just lessens to some degree. It’s kind of difficult to wrap my head around “20 years.” The 12th anniversary really made me reflect, because at that point more time had passed without my father in my life than with him. Something that’s huge for me is wanting everyone who lost their lives to never be forgotten — doesn’t matter if it’s 10 years or 30 years. It’s still significant to their loved ones and to this nation.

Tell me a little more about James and Caitlin. 
Rosanne: Jimmy was a writer. And he would have been so proud of both his daughters. Caitlin was on the Dean’s List and wanted to be a pediatric oncology social worker. She enjoyed knitting hats for premature babies. And this — writing about her dad — was very important to her. She’s not here to do it, but thankfully Annie is sharing the best she can for Caitlin, and she’s doing a great job.

Anne: Caitlin’s goal in life was to pay it forward and spread love wherever she went. One of her ultimate acts of paying it forward was to donate all her organs … just as our dad’s legacy was sacrificing to help others, she saw life as an opportunity to assist those in need. She just channeled grief into something positive whenever she could. My dad could be goofy sometimes. He liked to joke around and be playful. Whatever stress he was dealing with at work, he never brought it home, it wasn’t visible to us. He really showed that he enjoyed life despite what might have been going on.

If you wrote another legacy letter to James today, what would you tell him? 
Rosanne: I would tell him to take care of Caitlin and to please keep watching over Anne.

Anne: I would say that it hasn’t been easy growing up, hitting huge milestones, without him, but I’ve tried the best I could to make him proud and follow in his footsteps and honor everything he taught me about the Golden Rule. My dad was going back to grad school and working at the Police Academy as an instructor … I’m a teacher too, I teach special ed … I think I was trying to honor him by pursuing a career that also gives back, like he had and was continuing to work towards. I would also tell him that I miss his bear hugs and that I try to think about the good times I had with him and not the things I don’t get to experience.

Anne, what were some of the ways you and your sister coped with the pain as children?
Anne: For Caitlin and I, America’s Camp [a camp for children who had lost parents on 9/11 or in the line of duty]. I actually have a quote Caitlin wrote down in a letter to herself at camp — she wanted to write about her experience — and she said “Even with Pandora’s evils in the world, the good is there if you light a candle and not curse the darkness.” That was in 2016, she wrote that to her future self. And she really made some lifelong friends there. Tuesday’s Children was huge in our lives too. It was nice just to meet other families … to be in the company of others who have gone through similar loss.

What’s something you wish people understood better about your experience? 
Rosanne: That life can change in a matter of minutes.

Anne: Do what you want to do when you have the chance, because you don’t know. You don’t know if you’re going to have tomorrow or the next couple of hours — love everyone you have here while you can.

By 9/11 Memorial Staff

Carol and Her Two Sons, John and Nick, lost their hero on Tuesday, September 11, 2001

Carol and her two sons, John and Nick, lost their hero on Tuesday, September 11, 2001 when NYPD Officer John D’Allara of the elite Emergency Service Unit immediately responded to the terrorist attacks.

Because of caring people like you who knew you had to do something for families like Carol and her boys after the unimaginable loss of their husband and father, Tuesday’s Children could be there for them in the wake of this terrible tragedy.

Please make a donation today to support the life-changing work of Tuesday’s Children’s programs to keep the promise to always be here for 9/11 children and respond to the growing needs of Military Families of the Fallen and mass violence survivors. Any amount makes a huge difference in their lives!

CLICK HERE to learn more about Carol, John and Nick’s journey with Tuesday’s Children.

Tara Feinberg with her father Alan. Photo courtesy Tara Feinberg.

Ten years ago, 100 family members penned emotional letters to the loved ones they’d lost on 9/11, looking back on the decade since the attacks and sharing their personal memories. Collected and published by the organization Tuesday’s Children, the “Legacy Letters” not only stand as a written memorial to the victims, but also tell a powerful human story that captures the almost unfathomable long-term impact of the day. As the 20th anniversary approaches, we spoke with some of the families who contributed legacy letters in 2011 to ask about the evolution of their feelings and what they wish the world knew.

Today’s blog post — the first in a series highlighting these raw conversations —  features Tara Feinberg, who lost her father Alan Feinberg. Alan was an FDNY member serving as aide to the Battalion 9 Fire Chief on 9/11; he was 48 years old when he died rescuing others. Tara was 18 at the time. Today, she’s a married speech pathologist with two small children, living in New Jersey. Brian Curtis, who edited the compilation book, was ordained to perform her wedding ceremony.

“Everybody who was alive on 9/11 and old enough to remember can honestly say they weren’t the same person the next day.”

Alan Feinberg’s grandchildren Ace (left) and Reese Edgette, both 4, at the 9/11 Memorial. Photo courtesy Tara Feinberg.

How has your perspective changed since “The Legacy Letters” were published? 
I’ve become more aware of the state of the world as an adult. I’ve slowed down, I’ve gone more inward, I want to deal with the hard stuff. I’ve gotten caught up in some of the anxieties; a lot came to the surface when the kids [four-year-old twins] were born. And I think a lot of the fears I felt at first were not so much “new-mom”-related, they were more control-based because of the time the control got away from us. In the time since they were born, this has definitely become very real. My dad is really not here, he’s missing this. And I look at the kids and I think more about the legacy I have to leave for them. And I want them to be really proud of it. Grandpa was a hero. There was a really big fire and he died, he saved a lot of people. It’s not about me anymore, it’s about the next generation. It starts with them understanding and being aware of what happened.

If you wrote a second legacy letter today, what would you tell your dad?
I would say that we didn’t move on, we just figured out how to move forward. I have had time to process how I want to handle things, and I have clicked out of survival mode. I got my bachelor’s, my master’s, met my husband, had kids, bought a house … all because of him. That was our plan. I wish he was here for all those things, but I feel like he is. He lives in my kids, their personalities reflect him.

Tell us something about your dad that captures the essence of his personality. 
When I was learning how to drive, we were on Route 18, and he made me pull over because I wasn’t driving fast enough for him. He always had Jeeps, I drive one now, it makes me feel connected to him. My dad was a jokester, he really never grew up. We used to have sock fights in our house — he would take out all the socks and let my brother and me run around hitting each other with socks. And the game wasn’t over until someone cried. My dad was always funny and present. I feel like he’s still here sometimes, messing with me. So much of my kids’ joy and the way they act … it’s just like what my dad would have been doing.

What do you wish other people understood a little better about your family’s experience? 
I think I just want people to know that it’s still with us, the loss doesn’t go away, the grief doesn’t go away. The fact that my grief is public doesn’t mean it hurts less. That the littlest things can be a trigger. And that what happened on September 11th is responsible for so many unprecedented things that happened afterwards. I want this to be considered. The day changed everything. I just don’t want it to be forgotten.

Article originally posted by 9/11 Memorial staff