Name: Del Rose Forbes-Cheatham
Residence: New York, NY
Occupation: Cantor Fitzgerald
I joined Project 2,996 and was randomly assigned a 9/11 victim to honor today. I'll say all the standard remarks. The ones I've heard many times today. I can't believe it's been five years. I remember ever second of every hour of that day. Driving through western Colorado, Nebraska, Iowa, and Illinois, en route to my brother's wedding in New Jersey via Zube Boy's parents in Chicago. Listening to the voices over the radio theorizing, crying, lamenting, informing. For seventeen hours, I relentlessly clung to every bit of news. I couldn't tear myself away. I remember people days before telling me how silly it was to drive all the way to New Jesery to trade cars with my sister. Why not get a Jeep Cherokee in Colorado? It'd be worth it once you figured in gas money. But I was dead set on driving home. And the irony that I would not have made it to my brother's wedding if we hadn't driven has not escaped me.
What tore me apart the most was the magnitude of it all. That sounds stupid. It's what tore us all apart the most, I think. The individual stories. Imagining that a few thousand people, people like me and Zube Boy and you and my sisters and my brother and my aunts, cousins, uncles, parents, friends...it's exhausting. What drew me to this project was the ability to get to know just one a little better.
Del Rose Forbes-Cheatam.
I've stared at her picture for hours. She's beautiful. Her smile. The way even her eyes smile. The way she can pull off red. I've always wanted to be able to pull off red. And a hat. I love her hat. It is so her. And I don't even have to know her. I've tried to figure out what kind of person she might be. I'd toyed with the idea of finding her brother, mentioned here. I wish I knew how he thinks she might like to be honored. How he would like to see her honored. I want to tell him that I am so sorry for his loss. That she was beatiful. IS beautiful. But I googled Christopher Forbes and New York City, assuming that is where he lives, and there are just too many. I don't even know where to start.
I wonder, too. I wonder if she suffered. I wonder if she was scared. I wonder if she was comforted. Maybe by a coworker. Or a friend. Or a stranger. Or if she found peace in comforting someone else. I hope. I hope it all. Because I can't even imagine.
Every year on 9/11 I light a candle and take a minute to think about all who were lost that day. And this year I'll send my love to Del. And her brother. And all of those I'm sure are missing her brilliant smile, too.
They say Never Forget. And I Never Will. And, Del, I will never forget you.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Brought to You by Zube at 9:10 AM