By Alivia Hallett

On September 11th, 2001, my world shifted upside down. The words “agony” or “pain” do not even come close to what I felt on that day. It was the day I lost my hero: my dad. That day is commonly known as the “9/11 terror attacks,” because there were four coordinated terrorist attacks by al-Qaeda, a terrorist group, targeting the United States. Two planes were hijacked by 19 al-Qaeda terrorists and crashed into the north and south towers of the World Trade Center complex in New York City. Within an hour and 42 minutes, both 110-story towers collapsed to the ground. The attacks caused at least $10 billion in property damage, injured over 6,000 others, and killed 2,996 people. Out of 2,996 people, only one name stands out to me, Lieutenant Jim Hallett, my father.

My dad was a firefighter for about six years; he loved his job with all of his heart. He would always love to come home and cuddle right next to me in my little princess bed and tell me what he did that day. Today, I still remember his stories, smile, laugh and the cologne he used to wear. His smile would make someone else smile, like it was contagious, and his laugh was always so loud and obnoxious that everyone else would laugh at him. My dad is my hero. I remember when I was little and I was stuck in my room crying because I couldn’t get the door handle to open, my dad used all the tools he had and his own body weight to break the door to free me. As soon as he opened the door with his weight, I could see instantly that a massive weight lifted off his shoulders while he hugged me so tightly. My dad dedicated his life to helping people, so that is what I want to become today. I want to be a nurse to help people and make a difference, just like my dad did.

I can still remember the day perfectly. I woke up that morning and thought that my life was perfect and how happy I was. I was happy about how the sun was so bright it lit up the whole kitchen, how my mom was finally washing my Princess Belle dress, and how my dad was making my favorite breakfast. He made golden-brown buttery toast, crispy hash browns and fresh-squeezed orange juice. My dad would be sitting at the table drinking his coffee and reading the newspaper while I would eat my breakfast across the table. Before even getting into the comic section of the paper, my dad got a call. He was told by the fire chief to come to the fire station immediately. My dad immediately got everything he needed, and as he was about to walk out the door, I asked him if he was coming back to play princesses and cowboys with me. He just looked back, kneeled on the floor and said that he would be back soon. He kissed my mother’s and my forehead before he walked out the door.

Only 20 minutes had passed when my mom called me to watch the TV. I remember hearing my mom yelling at me from downstairs with such distress that I knew it was serious. She was kneeling in front of the TV, and when I came over she held me tightly. I asked what the matter was, and she said something bad happened and everything was going to be okay. Literally seconds after my mom was telling me everything was okay, I saw pain and destruction; I was devastated. A couple of minutes passed by, and my mom received a call from my dad to grab me and to come to the fire station because it was in lockdown. When the fire station goes into lockdown the fire chief liked to have the families of all the firemen in one area. My mom without hesitation grabbed everything and loaded us in the car.

I was so confused because of what was going on that I couldn’t piece together in my mind on what I was thinking. My dad would always tell me that if we were in lockdown and had to go to the station, I should follow every rule and be a big girl. I was scared; I just wanted to see my dad in that moment, and I also knew my mom wanted to see him too. We got to the fire station and we immediately ran inside. I remember walking in and smelling this horrible body-odor smell, like someone just bathed in sewage or something foul. There were approximately 20 families standing together, watching a giant projection screen of what was going on. At the time I was two, and I didn’t really have the best understanding of what was going on. I remember my mom squeezing me and hugging me like it was going to be the last time she would see me.

A few seconds later the fire chief came over and informed the families that everyone’s loved ones were at the scene dealing with the disaster and he was going to join them. I looked around the room and saw everyone’s heart drop when they found out their loved ones were there. All we could do was watch the screen or pray. This is the sad thing about a lockdown: There was nothing we could do to help.

Hours had passed, and still no sign of our loved ones walking back into the fire station . Then we saw a light. The light was so bright it got everyone’s attention, and it lit up the entire room in seconds. Everyone was looking at the door and hoping their husband, father or loved one came back. Almost everyone made it back. My mom was standing in total shock and distress that my dad hadn’t walked in. The fire chief came up to my mom and handed her my dad’s fire helmet. He then informed her that he hadn’t made it back. My mom knew instantly what happened: that my dad had passed away. While holding the helmet in her hand, my mom dropped to the floor screaming, crying, saying, “Why? Why did he go?” My mom was a total wreck in that moment. It only took me a few seconds to realize that my dad had passed away.

At first, I was in denial about the whole thing, but finally I knew from my mom’s tears that it was true, that my hero was gone forever. I cried that whole night, which felt like eternity. The fire chief told my mom that my dad ran into the building to help rescue people, and when the chief told them to come back down, my dad decided not to. My dad heard a woman crying and was going to save her. Before he could get to her, the whole building collapsed on him. The only thing they could find of my dad was his helmet and pieces of him scattered all over.

When I think about heroes, I don’t think of Superman or Spider-Man. I think about my dad. My dad, the real superhero, who dedicated his life to help and save people. In my father’s final minutes on this earth, he decided to not follow orders from his captain and decided to go and save a woman. To this day, my family still mourns the loss of my father’s life, and he will never be forgotten. I will always be grateful for what firefighters do for us every day and cherish the memories I have with my father. Every day I wonder if he is watching over me and watching me make my own decisions. Just like my dad used to say to me, “You’re a light, so shine bright, my darling.”

I will love you forever, Dad.