The
River and The Creek
A 9/11 Tale |
 |
Translated
by Chi Chung
February 20, 2002
Moments before the
World Trade Center was attacked, I called my brother from my
office to surprise him with a gift he had always wanted. When
no one answered, I hung up the phone without leaving a message.
It didn't occur to me that it would have been the last time
he would have heard my voice. After I heard the news of the
attack, I could not stop trembling because I knew that he always
arrived at his office on the 95th floor of the north tower of
the World Trade Center before 8:30 a.m. Twenty minutes later,
another hijacked Boeing 767 struck the south tower of the World
Trade Center. Not hearing from him, I knew that something must
have happened to him. He would never let his family worry unnecessarily.
The company I work for sent all of its employees
home after the second attack. Knowing that I was anxious to
look for him, my colleagues persuaded me to stay away from the
still dangerous southern part of Manhattan. While fleeing with
the crowds to the Queens Bridge to get to New Jersey, I kept
looking back to where the Twin Towers once stood. There was
nothing left but dust and soot. My face was covered with tears
during the six-hour ride home. I collapsed with disbelief on
the front door step, grieving for my lost sibling. He was my
beloved eldest brother.
We were born eight years apart. My father
named him "River" and me "Creek," implying
that we shared the same water. My brother left home for high
school when I was in the second grade. While I have few memories
of him at that age, he was already my mentor. He was an attractive
individual with intelligence, compassion and leadership. He
was always the one among us siblings to receive the most attention
from our relatives. In return, he helped to care for his younger
brothers and sister.
My sister once told me a touching story.
Back in our school days in Taiwan, every student carried a lunch
box that had to be sent to the school kitchen to be heated up
before noon. As the oldest brother, he had the responsibility
of delivering the lunch box for his sister. One day, my sister
noticed that her lunch box had been switched with his. Immediately,
she ran to his classroom and found him enjoying her lunch with
his mouth filled with "dirty" food. With a smile on
his face, he confessed to my sister that he had stumbled and
spilled the contents of her lunch box while crossing the soccer
field. As he picked up the soiled contents, he decided to exchange
his sister's lunch with his clean one.
My brother was very protective of his siblings.
In his elementary school days, he acted as a bodyguard to my
second brother at school. On one occasion, he saw his brother
being bullied in the playground. Although he was aware that
our father would not tolerate misbehavior in school, he unhesitatingly
fought the bully and saved his brother, receiving a bloody head
for his efforts. Although I was too young to fully understand
what happened, my respect for my brother's heroic act has never
left my memory.
I finally got an opportunity to know my brother
well when he came home to prepare for his college entrance examinations.
We shared the same bedroom and even though he was quite busy
with his exam preparations, he still found time to counsel me
through my childhood years. We became best friends.
Our mother passed away when I was fourteen
years old. I will never forget that day. When my brother entered
the classroom with tears on his face, my teacher just happened
to be telling us a story about a boy who had lost his own mother.
I knew what had happened as soon as I saw his tearful face and
heard him asking permission from my teacher to take me home.
I immediately burst into tears and ran into his arms. He hugged
me and sincerely promised me that he would look after me like
our mother had. Even today, I can hardly believe that he was
just a junior college student when he made that promise. True
to his word, throughout my teenage years, he delivered what
he had promised, teaching encouragement, enlightenment, and
proper social behavior.
My brother went to America in 1980 for his
graduate studies. I arrived in 1985. After that, we spoke almost
daily on the phone. We continued this routine even after we
both had our own families to take care of. We shared everything
that was happening in our lives, just like those days when we
were roommates in Taiwan. We often talked of our dream of starting
our own business. Finally, in 1992, the opportunity arrived
after we both lost our jobs due to the recession. We took over
a retail store and hoped to use it as a base for expansion.
Due to our lack of business experience, we had a very bumpy
ride. Our college education and long fourteen-hour workdays
did little to help smooth that journey. During those difficult
times, we were both exhausted at the end of each day. Nevertheless,
each of us would cheerfully work a few more hours in order to
give the other person some free time. We worked well as a team
and believed that there would be a light at the end of the tunnel.
On those occasions when I became discouraged with our prospects
for success, my brother was there to comfort me with confidence.
Without him, our business venture would have quickly failed.
To make a living, we struggled through this tough journey together
for a long time. Our business income was significantly less
than what we had earned from our previous jobs, but we never
argued over how to share the profits. We never got to see the
light at the end of the tunnel. We eventually went back and
had successful careers at company jobs. We have had no regrets
on our start-up venture. It gave us many precious memories.
Our father and other relatives were all impressed by the strong
kinship we demonstrated during those hard times.
Over the years, our financial situations
improved considerably. My brother had two children, outstanding
both academically and professionally. On September 10, I called
to congratulate him since his dream of retiring to do full-time
voluntary work in his church would soon come true. On September
11, it became an unfinished dream. After the attack on the Twin
Towers, I visited every local hospital hoping to find my brother's
name on the patient lists, knowing it would take a miracle.
As I went from one hospital to another, I felt disappointment
and grief. I did not want to accept that our physical bond had
ended. He was still alive inside of me. It took me no time at
all to fill out the lengthy ten-page application form for a
lost person report. I was amazed at how much I knew about my
brother, especially after the past seventeen years in America.
After work, I have been hosting a radio program
on one of the Chinese community stations. On many occasions,
I have discussed life and death with my audience. I thought
that I could face death gracefully. However, I found it very
difficult to accept the loss of my oldest brother. My father,
suppressing his deep grief, reminded us to bury our brother
in our hearts and to look to the future. I am father to my children;
I am supposed to act like an adult. However, it is not possible
for me to deal with my brother's death like an adult. I have
always been a little brother who depended on his older brother's
guidance throughout the years. How can I keep tears from streaming
down my face whenever I think of him or when talking to my other
brother and sister about him?
In high school, I read a touching memorial
article, "Message To My Deceased Sister," written
by Yan Mei. At that time, I was very surprised by the deep sorrow
that one could have at losing a sister. Now, I completely understand
the writer's feelings. Although I do not have Yan Mei's literary
talent, my grief at the loss of my brother is no less intense.
He will not fade away from his family's memory. My sister and
second brother are coming to his memorial service in the U.S.
during the Chinese Moon Festival. This will be the first Moon
Festival that we have spent together since each of us got married.
In our childhood, we used to share a moon-cake in four equal
parts and enjoy memories of our past under the full moon. It
will be impossible to have the same enjoyment when our oldest
brother will not be there to take his quarter of the moon-cake.
Time may diminish our sorrow, but nothing will bring back our
lost brother. I am sure that the strong bond built between us
will never be broken, just as it is impossible to separate water
merged from a creek and a river. My only wish right now is to
have time reverse itself and bring back my beloved brother.
I will not give up waiting for this dream to come true.
