The Tragedy

and years later...

And I kept that promise. I had trouble at first, but I finally started to get better. It took 12 sessions of therapy and a lot of breaks during school hours to keep my cool, but it worked out in the end. I actually started to call Ally's parents 'mom and dad' after about a year. They did accept me and they completely understood when I blew up, whether it was at them or not.

I graduated with a 4.0 GPA; the third highest in my class. Ally was the second, and a peer or mine named Alex won valedictorian. At the time, I was upset that I didn't get that level of recognition just as I told my family I would at age 10, but I knew they were proud of me nonetheless. And I know they were watching me from above.

I believe they still are. Every so often, a flower falls on me or near me. I take this as a hello from my mom. I'm sometimes blessed with low mortgage payments and spare money; I take this as some guidance from my dad. Occasionally, I find some of my brother's old baby books. I think he sends them to me for my son.

It's August 2011 now. I'm 26, living with Ally (whom I married 2 years ago) and our 5 year old son, Ashton. I spent five years in college after graduating, studying psychology to become a therapist. Mostly because I've had my own fair share of trauma and it was definitely hard for me to recover, but the therapist I went to helped. I wanted to do the same for others.

Ally's an English teacher. She also spent 5 years at university to get her job. She wanted to help kids learn how to love learning, if that makes sense. I don't know. I honestly can't remember.

Our son, Ashton is 5 years old. He was born on July 13th, 2006 and I can't possibly adore any other little boy. I named him after Nathan, who's middle name was Ashton, and every time I hear or say his name, I think of my brother. He would be 18 now, ready to take on adulthood...and I would've helped him through it. I really would've.

We still live in New York, but we're out of Manhattan. I suggested to move a city away so I could be with my family, but still have a fresh start. There's just too many memories surrounding Manhattan...

Ally's parents have been nothing but supportive as the years progressed. Our relationship has grown so much and I'm grateful that they took me in or we wouldn't have the same connection as we do now. They easily fall into the roll of my own parents and I'm positive that my parents would love them just as much. I love them. A lot.

In a way, I'm thankful for the attack. It gave me more connections with people and a second family, who I didn't even know I had before the event. It made me realize that I'm strong and that I can handle having no family; it made me realize how independent I am. I mean...I lost my family at age 16. I was still going through changes yet I still pulled through.

I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and I do still have anxiety from the tragedy, but I do appreciate what it taught me. My family will always have a special place in my heart and I will always loved them: dead or alive. They're family...and family will always be family.

__________

"Hello, beautiful!" I walk in to my kitchen and kiss my wife on the crook of her neck. "Awe, hey. Stop that," she shrugs me off with a smile. I roll my eyes playfully as I set my bags on the counter. "Where's Ashton?" I rest my elbows on the kitchen bar, waiting for her response.

"He's over at a friend's house," she says, walking over to me and kissing my temple. "Which friend?" I ask, suddenly getting very overprotective. "Samuel, and his mom said that both kids are going to be inside all day and that she's keeping a close eye on them. Chill, Austin. I know how where our son is at all times, and I make sure of it. Shouldn't you know this by now?" She gives me the look. "Yeah, yeah..."