Broken: skyline and hearts

I had a ritual. Whenever I drove home, as I approached Manhattan I'd watch for the skyline to appear. Then I'd hit play on the CD player. I always arrived home to Billy Joel's "New York State of Mind," my spirits lifting as first the World Trade Center tower and then the Empire State building loomed large.\nI loved the Manhattan skyline. It was a symbol of home and family to me. This is especially odd, as I'm from Eastern Long Island, and most Long Islanders loathe "The City." Not me, though. Even when I abandoned driving in favor of flying home, I'd watch for the skyline from my plane window. \nTherefore, while I was home for Christmas, I really wanted to visit Ground Zero. Although I'd seen pictures, I couldn't comprehend my beloved skyline without the Twin Towers. I had some misgivings, however. Even as my brother and I rode the train into Manhattan, I wondered if by making this trip I was becoming the equivalent of a person who slows down to gawk at car accidents. Was it insensitive to want to see a place where so many died? \nAlthough I wasn't sure what to expect at Ground Zero, I was completely unprepared for what I encountered. Thousands of people waited in a line that stretched almost five blocks. Unknowingly, we had chosen the morning the public viewing platform opened. The two-hour wait was surreal. It was the quietest line I've ever stood in. After an hour in the frigid cold, my hands and feet were completely numb, but when a crew of firemen, obviously fresh from the rubble, walked by, I joined with the rest of the crowd in ripping off my gloves and applauding. \nNear the end, the line passed in front of St. Mark's Church. Literally next door to Ground Zero, twisted shards of metal still festooned the trees behind it. The fence that encircles the church has become a shrine, smothered in posters, pictures and banners. The fliers bearing photos of the missing are faded now, most covered by thank-you messages to the relief workers and memorials to the dead. One I remember vividly read, "Dear Mark, Happy 24th birthday in Heaven." It was at this point that I fought tears for the first time.\nWithin minutes we were on the platform overlooking Ground Zero. Although the surrounding buildings were a bit tattered, to my surprise, it was more like viewing an enormous construction site than a disaster scene. There is only a small pile of debris left. The recovery effort has moved below ground. \nLeaving the platform, we again passed the memorial area. I noticed a teenaged girl in front of one of the "missing" fliers. As I watched, she reached out with one hand and touched the picture on the flier. With her other hand she covered her mouth and began to sob. It was then, after the fact, that I finally cried. I saw the real devastation in front of St. Mark's, not overlooking the ruins. \nIn retrospect, I'm glad I swallowed my qualms and braved the cold to see Ground Zero. Not long after Sept. 11, I read something by a New York writer who described "a hole in the skyline as big as the hole in our hearts." I went to pay my respects to the hole in the skyline and I left with a hole in my heart.