The Things We Leave Behind

The epic dimensions of Tuesday’s tragedy have summoned a language of superlatives. The worst terrorist attack in U.S. history. New York’s tallest buildings, laid flat. The biggest blow to America’s sense of security since Pearl Harbor.

Historians eventually will try to make sense of the tides sweeping through America. For the moment, however, the random mementos that the victims left behind give an eloquent voice to some of the nation’s private yearnings. An unmade bed, a prized set of golf clubs or a small glass souvenir from a long-ago family outing.

Every one of the some 5,300 missing or dead in the attacks left traces of a life, each as carefully unique as a snowflake. Collectively, these simple things form a mosaic of human experience, a national scrapbook dedicated to a great national theme: the singularity of every individual.

While investigators in New York continue foraging for forensic evidence, it will be left to the families of the missing people to begin sifting through their loved ones’ personal artifacts. Inevitably, in the weeks and months ahead, there will be questions about what to keep and what to let go.

Last week, Americans joined in an elegiac national symphony of somber pride and grief. The stories below are of a different scale, evidence of the loss and longing, and in a few cases--against all odds--of hope.

Reed Johnson

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Dannette Lopez twirled a glass Dumbo with blue ears and a blue tail on the slender gold chain her father purchased during their first visit to Disneyland 13 years ago.

“I was a little girl then, but it’s always been a good-luck charm for me,” Lopez said of the gift from Maclovio “Joe” Lopez Jr. The Norwalk construction worker was killed when United Airlines Flight 175 crashed into the south tower of the World Trade Center.

“I dangle the chain over my index finger so that the little elephant swings happily,” Lopez said, trying not to cry.

The keepsake is a reminder of a promise the 250-pound bear of a man made to his only daughter. In what had become a household ritual, Maclovio Lopez and Dannette used to sit on big brown-and-tan plaid couches in the living room of their California bungalow in Norwalk, talking about how it would be when she got married.

Slouching comfortably, with an arm draped over the couch, Maclovio Lopez, who dreamed of being a great-grandfather, would say: “Deedee, I’m really looking forward to giving you away to a good man. I’ll be wearing a tuxedo for the second time in my life when I do it.”

Seated a few feet away, his 21-year-old daughter would always insist that it be a garden wedding. “I want lots of flowers, Dad, and lots of family and friends,” she would say. “You’ll be standing tall and proud right to next to me--like you always do.”

No firm date had been set for Dannette’s wedding to fiance Michael Fortin, 23, but they had their hearts set on April, the month that Maclovio Lopez, who worked for a company specializing in building water main projects, would have turned 42. There seemed to be plenty of time to make the wedding plans. “I feel cheated,” Dannette said. “I feel cheated.”

Father, daughter and fiance had planned to spend more time together last Friday with a trip to Disneyland’s California Adventure, a place that would have undoubtedly recalled memories of a little glass elephant.