"May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind be always at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rain fall soft upon your fields. And until we meet again, may God hold you in the hollow of His hand."

Fear set in and I couldn't control it. It was nearly half past nine Sept. 11 when I saw the first signs of destruction wreaking havoc on our city. I was in shock. It didn't look real. I just couldn't and still can't imagine why someone, anyone, would commit such inhumane acts against innocent people. Why?

My parents were en route home from Europe and their plane was supposed to touch ground at 1:45 p.m. that afternoon. I didn't know what to do. All I saw were planes hitting buildings, killing people. Then came talks of hijackers. Hijackers that bound passengers, stabbed crewmembers and used these planes as missiles for their suicide missions. I called the airline, I called my family, I called on God. Nearly 10 hours had passed and still no phone call.

British Airways said the plane never left London. Their travel agent said it was making its way to Canada, where so many other flights had been diverted. All I could do was wait and watch the horrific events unfold on every television channel. Panic began setting in. What if hijackers had taken over their plane? What if they never make it home? I didn't even remember the last thing I said to them. I just kept waiting for the phone to ring, like so many of you.

My parents were among 2,000 passengers who were re-routed to Canadian airports. They slept on mats in a shelter for days in Halifax, Nova Scotia. With their luggage still on the plane and their hearts still in their throats, my parents couldn't wait it out. They had to find another way home. With US airports closed, their plane was heading back to London, like so many other planes, forced to return to their origin. My parents weren't boarding their plane again. They were finding another way home. A volunteer at the center, his name John, graciously offered to drive Americans back into the states. They trekked to Maine, then New Hampshire and finally Boston until they boarded an Amtrak train to New York. They got home Friday, Sept. 14.

I'm sure my story doesn't compare to some of yours because I didn't lose a loved one to terrorism Sept. 11. My prayers and thoughts, however, are forever with those who did. Your community is doing so much to help ease the loss that many of us can only imagine. The Garden City Community Fund established a Family Relief Fund; the schools are doing their part in raising money; residents are donating supplies, food, blood and manpower; area churches and religious centers have opened their doors to you, their family; and hundreds upon hundreds from Garden City and beyond showed their support at a recent candle lighting vigil at the gazebo.

Heroes are among us - firefighters, police officers, EMT and EMS workers, ordinary citizens - tirelessly taking part in the rescue efforts down at "ground zero," risking their own lives to save others amid the rubble. Neighbors and community organizations are doing their part as well, raising money, donating supplies, even offering a kind word. There's no excuse for what happened Sept. 11 and I'll never understand it. All I can do is call on God, offer my condolences, light a candle and say a prayer for you, the victims, the heroes and their families. May God bless you during such difficult times.

- C.K.