We All Fall Down: The True Story of the 9/11 Surfer (27 page)

Because life had become so hectic for all of them, they had not had a chance to meet the new additions to each other’s families after the babies were born. The Martires lived in the Bronx, while the Buzzellis made their home in New Jersey. In fact, Mike and Dara had only laid eyes on Hope for the first time on TV, when the press conference of Kathryn’s doing was aired. Now that things were finally slowing down, the friends found time to set aside to get together and dote on their new little babies, the evening after the Memorial Day parade. After some catching up, they all sat down for dinner.

“Oh, it is so nice to be together again!” Louise said as they ate. “We have missed you guys so much. And little Michael is already such a big boy, Dara! Look at those cheeks!”

“I know. It’s been way too long, and I’ve missed my goddaughter,” Dara said. “Hope is such a little doll, like an angel. After all you guys went through, I bet you can’t believe she’s here and things are starting to finally calm down”

“I know. I want to spend every last minute with her. Sometimes I just watch her sleep and try to take it all in,” Louise said, smiling at the little girl she held in her arms

“So, what have you both been up to?” Mike asked. “In between feedings and changing diapers, of course!”

“Well, I am sure you guys can relate, but we have been so busy with everything since…
it
happened,” Louise said, speaking again of the dreaded and unmentionable “it.”

“How are you holding up?” Dara asked Pasquale.

“I am doing all right,” Pasquale said, “but my wife’s
always
keeping busy. You should hear the song she wrote about everything.”

“Louise, you wrote a song?!” Dara exclaimed. “Oh my God! You have to let us hear it!”

“Yeah, let’s hear what you got,” Ralph teased.

“Oh, no. It’s really nothing—”

“Whatever! What do you mean it’s ‘nothing.’ When the heck did you find time to write a song? You
have
to let me hear it,” Dara ordered, smiling.

Louise felt a little awkward about it, but seeing the look of anticipation on Dara’s face convinced her to give it a shot.

After they finished dinner, they all gathered in the living room. Louise sat down in front of the black, upright, high-back piano, a once-dilapidated old thing that Pasquale had restored into something beautiful and had perfectly tuned for his wife. She closed her eyes for a moment, thought of what the song meant to her, and began to play. As she sang the words she’d written, it was as if they were coming from somewhere deep inside of her. She did not even feel the eyes of her family and friends upon her; it was as if she was in another place, alone, just pouring her heart out in hopes that the universe would hear her cry. She did not open her eyes again until the last note was played, and when she looked around, she was almost surprised to see them all sitting there with her.

“Louise…” Dara began with tears in her eyes. “My God, that was so…beautiful!”

“Really?” Louise asked, humbled and a bit shy about it.

“Hell yeah!” Ralph said in true boisterous Ralph fashion. “People
need
to hear that song! You gotta do something with that!”

“Oh, I don’t know. I just had to…I wanted to do something for these women and their babies,” she said as she held up the
PEOPLE Magazine
and showed them the cover

“Wow, cuz. It’s so…amazing,” Joanne said. “Can I see that?”

“Sure. These are the women who were pregnant before 9/11. Their babies were born after…” She turned to the pages inside and started telling Joanne and everyone in her living room about each one of them, reciting their stories as if she knew all thirty-one of them personally.

“Can we see it?” Dara asked.

Mike, who’d been silent the whole time, finally spoke up. “Louise,” he said, “I can’t even begin to understand what those women went through—what
you
went through on that day. I don’t know how they go on. It must be so…hard.”

“Me neither,” Louise said. “I can’t imagine what I would have done if I’d have lost Pasquale.” Her eyes started to well up with tears.

“You know what?” Mike said after a few seconds reflecting on her words. “People should hear this song. It’s just so…important.” His face made it clear that his mind was racing a mile a minute. “I’ll tell you what. I have a friend in Brooklyn. Name’s Gaspare, and he has a recording studio. Let me make a phone call. I don’t know if he still does it, but back when I used to DJ, we produced a few groups. We even had a record label. Maybe I can get you some time in the studio to record that…so people besides us can hear it.”

~ ♦ ~

Louise thought back on that as she sat and listened to her song with Dara and Kathryn at Step One Recording Studios in Brooklyn, New York. Mike Martire and Gaspare Valenti produced and mixed the song, ultimately titled a simple “Hope.” She still could not believe that after so much time mourning for those women, she was finally able to do something tangible, something that might actually help them. For the first time since she’d seen the
PEOPLE Magazine
cover in that checkout line, and after all those months of reading over and over each story, nearly memorizing every word, she really felt that somehow, in some small way, she could make a difference. She knew she could do nothing to bring back the husbands and fathers who’d died that day, but at least she was doing something—something positive that might make a difference for the ones those men had left behind.

A little while later, the song was properly mixed, and Louise could not believe it: her song, recorded professionally, thanks to her friend Mike, who cared enough to get involved and make it happen. Although Louise wrote and sang the song, she did not possess the piano skills she thought were needed to do it justice and really get its message across (when she’d played the song to herself, she’d always imagined hearing Billy Joel play it and Faith Hill singing it), so Mike called in an old friend who was an amazing piano player, Joseph Reina. He played the keyboard track and brought the song to a whole new level. Louise was ecstatic over how professional it sounded.

Everyone involved was so happy to hear the finished product; Louise was especially moved to finally have a copy of the song in her hands. It was a truly magical moment for her, one she would never forget. Even as the hour grew late and 5:00 a.m. approached, she was full of the kind of energy that can only come from true creative bliss. After all of that time, she finally had something she could give to the women who meant the world to her. She’d always had a passion for music, thanks much to her mother and those Shirley Temple tunes when she was a child, and she’d recently developed a passion for those widows. “Hope” was a way for Louise Buzzelli to put both of her passions to work for the good of others.

Sadly, for Louise and Pasquale, it would be one of the few bright spots they would have to look back on. As even the greatest of intentions sometimes do, things began taking a turn for the worse.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Thanksgiving in July

“Think of it more as a thanksgiving day rather than a celebration or a birthday party. So many friends and family have supported us this past year. Why not have them all here, together, in one place, so we can thank them for all their support? They all want to be here and are thankful that you are alive.”

~ Louise Buzzelli

Louise stood on the deck on the back of her home and tried her best to take it all in. Almost 200 people, all of them friends and family, were there, spread out between the front and back yards or in the home. The children enjoyed the petting zoo and pony rides, while the adults devoured the roasted pig and other delicacies that had been so immaculately prepared by a professional chef. Some were taking advantage of the open bar. It was July 27, 2002, and all of them had come for one reason: a celebration. It was humbling that so many had come from far and wide to celebrate Pasquale’s birthday and, more importantly, his life. Everyone there knew how close they’d come to losing him, and they wanted to come together and show him just how much he meant to them.

~ ♦ ~

“We need to talk,” Louise said to Pasquale.

He paused the racing game he was playing on Xbox and looked up from the couch. “Uh-oh,” Pasquale said, smirking and knowing no husband ever wants to hear those words from his wife. “What now?”

Louise laughed; he looked like an overgrown teenager sitting there with his Xbox controller, and the look on his face said he thought he was about to get grounded. “Don’t look at me like that.” She smacked him flirtatiously on the shoulder. “I want to talk about your birthday.”

“What about it?” he asked, letting out an exaggerated groan.

“Stop with the attitude!” she said, smiling. “I want to have a big party for you.”

“You know I don’t like a big deal made over my birthday, Nunu!”

“Well, it’s not always about what
you
want,” she joked. “P. I know you don’t like to talk about it, but your birthday this year
is
a big deal. I mean, you don’t turn thirty-three every year anyway, and with everything that has happened this year…well, I just think it would be an amazing thing to get everyone back together.”

“I know, Louise.” Pasquale sighed. “I know you like to make a big deal out of these things, but it makes me uncomfortable to expect everyone to come from all over just for me.”

“Well, don’t think about it like that then. Think about it like, uh…” She snapped her fingers, searching for the right word. “Think of it like a reunion! Yeah, a big reunion that just happens to be going on during your birthday. Think of it more as a thanksgiving day rather than a celebration or a birthday party. So many friends and family have supported us this past year. Why not have them all here, together, in one place, so we can thank them for all their support? They all want to be here and are thankful that you are alive.”

He thought about this for a moment before reluctantly agreeing. “Okay, but only as long as everyone knows they don’t need to go to any trouble to be here…and
no
gifts! I don’t want
anyone
bringing gifts.”

~ ♦ ~

Louise immediately got to work planning the celebration. She decided to call it “Thanksgiving in July,” because Pasquale’s birthday was in July, and she and all those who would be invited were so thankful that he was alive. More than any other birthday he’d had before, it would be a celebration of his life, of his survival. She printed up fliers on red, white, and blue paper (keeping in line with the patriotic summer holidays) and mailed them to everyone she thought would want to attend. Eventually, the guest list rose to over 200 people, their wedding list and many more, and Louise had to figure out how to make sure they were all comfortable at her house.

To shield people from the July sun, she rented tents. They were set up in the front and back yards, along with Porta-Johns and a petting zoo. Peter Olinto, in addition to being a lawyer, enjoyed serving as a DJ, and he was in charge of the music. Louise had different “stations” set up all over the yard for face-painting and fun games for the kids to play. One of her best high school friends, Rory (a teacher at the time), came to read
The Very Hungry Caterpillar,
along with a selection of other great kids’ books to the young attendees, and the children seemed to love “Story with Rory” time. A professional chef was hired to feed everyone, and a bartender and wait staff served and cleaned up. Relatives came from all over, even some from as far away as Florida and Italy, and Father Pat Mulewski, who’d led the candlelight memorial at St Pius X after 9/11, agreed to come and bless the party.

As things got into full swing, Mike Martire suggested that Louise should play her song, “Hope,” for everyone. He thought it a good idea for their closest family and friends to be a part of it, before it went out to the rest of the world. After some convincing, she obliged. Everyone listened intently as the song played, and they passed around the CD case, admiring the cover of Hope’s little hand holding on to Louise’s finger, something Kathryn had designed. As the song played, there was hardly a dry eye to be seen. It was such an emotional moment that it overwhelmed Louise. When the song finished, she could not hold it in any longer, and she collapsed into the arms of her sister, Susan.

Louise buried her face in Susan’s shoulder and let out all of the emotion she’d bottling inside. Susan held her and stroked her hair as Louise cried tears of catharsis. As she cried, Louise felt something come over her. It was as if she was being comforted by her father’s spirit. It was like Harry was there, as if he hadn’t died from that apartment fire in 2000, and he was there, hugging his little girl, telling her everything was all going to be all right.

After Louise gathered herself, she felt much better. She looked around the party and noticed Pasquale’s Uncle Orazio, an Italian Military (
Esercito Italiano
) veteran, sitting in silence. She approached him and could see that he’d been especially moved by the song.

Uncle Orazio had been through a lot in his life, so as they talked about the song and Pasquale’s and Louise’s struggles, he offered Louise some advice on how to deal with Pasquale after everything that had happened. “You know, I’ve seen a lot of things in my life,” he said with tears in his eyes. “No one here, other than Pasquale, knows what happened in that building. God only knows what he has seen. None of us can understand what he witnessed. It may be hard, but you just have to let him deal with things in his own time. You never know what may bring back those memories. Even the smallest comment may trigger those thoughts. As hard as it may be, you just have to understand and let him grieve.”