The Glenn I knew died on 9/11

The Glenn I knew died on 9/11.

Not everyone died as the World Trade Center towers collapsed and fell to the ground on September 11^th, 2001.  Many others crumbled slowly and painfully to their untimely deaths.   I believe this is what happened to my cousin, Glenn, a fireman from the theater district in midtown Manhattan.   Although he was considered “one of the lucky one” because he was off that day and physically survived the Terrorists’ attacks, the events of that horrific time period killed him as surely as if he had been hit in the head with one of the steel beams. 

I knew Glenn since he was born in November 1950.  I was a flower girl at his parents’ wedding.  I got to stay overnight at his parents’ apartment in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn when he was a newborn.  As a baby, Glenn stayed with my family at our house in East New York on days when his mother, my Aunt Margie, was unable to care for him. I was barely 6 years older but I always felt a certain type of motherly affection towards him.     On September 11^th, I was relieved and happy when I heard he was “safe”.

I had not yet realized that the toxic effects of this experience were going to drag him down, tear him apart and lead to his premature death.  He was exposed to the physical, environmental and emotional pollutions of ground zero.  The constant pounding of intense grief battered him brutally and left him weakened and exposed.   For an individual as gentle and sweet as my cousin, Glenn, it viscously took its toll.   

Approximately a year after 9/11, Glenn made the decision to retire from Engine 54, but later shared that he regretted this choice and wish he had stayed.   His long-standing marriage to the “Love of his Life” fell apart when he made other choices that were totally out of character.  He also left the next job he took as a school bus driver when the turmoil in his brain led to confusion in his assigned routes.   He shared with me that he felt he was going crazy and his anxiety and fretfulness were truly heartbreaking to witness.     He was eventually treated medically for a rather mysterious problem with his brain, and gradually but steadily deteriorated.  Little by little and then faster and faster, he reverted into a nonresponsive state.  It was never really clear to me what killed Glenn.   I don’t believe it was ever really satisfactorily explained to his family and those closest to him either.    Glenn died on December 10^th, 2013, and although it was a full twelve years after the World Trade Center attacks, I honestly believe 9/11 killed him.  His passing was perhaps, less dramatic, but in many ways more painful simply because it was a slow, torturous downward path of anguish and suffering.    In my mind he is as much a Hero as if he had fallen in the line of duty when the Towers collapsed.

After thought: I asked Glenn once before if I could share his story and he gave me his permission at that time.  I think he would want his story to be told.      The picture above appeared in the Albany Times Union newspaper on Sunday, Sept 12, 2010.  with an article I wrote entitled, One of the "lucky ones" - 9 years later.  Glenn sent me the photo and gave me permission to write the article.