http://proftitutes.blogspot.com/2006/09/sean-b-fegan-memorial.html

As part of the 2,996 project, I am blogging about a victim of 9-11

We can never forget, even for a day, that people died on 9-11 as a result of hatred. People die every day as a result of hatred. But, if we, as a society, become complacent or apathetic, the deaths of all of these people are in vain.

For all the words I know, I know none that can express my enduring sadness for the loss of lives on 9-11. I know of no good words of comfort to give his family, friends, or co-workers. I know of no appropriate sentiment. I am sorry does not seem to be enough.

As a mother, my heart goes out to his mother, Colette. If I could call her or write to her, I would just sit with her and cry. There is nothing in this world worse than losing a child. Nothing. I am sure she is a strong woman because she was mother to such a successful young man. But, all the strength in this world does not hold a candle to losing your son.

I would not know what to say to his father, Peter. I can't imagine losing a son as a mother, but I am sure it is equally painful for a father.

As a sister, I can understand the pain of losing a sibling, as, I too, have lost one. The memories of the little fights, the stupid fights, dribble through those moments of great fun and escapades. The memories of Christmas, halloweens, and picnics surface and take root in a pain so unlike any other. My heart extends to Peter, Anne Marie, and Catherine.

My heart finally stops at Jenny - his girlfriend. Maybe he was "the one." I am sure she thinks about what could have been...

I don't know much about Sean B. Fegan, but, from what I have read about him, I can tell that he loved life. I can tell that he put his all into everything. I can tell that he loved his family. I can tell that he was successful, promising, and fun. I can tell that he never planned to lose his life in the World Trade Center. So, all I can do is sum up the facts as I have found them on the web and hope that, through the 2,996 project, that Sean's memory stays alive. Here is what we know:

He loved being Irish.

He called his Mom, Colette, often because he loved her.

He loved his father, Peter.

He had 2 sisters, Anne Marie and Catherine, and a brother, Peter.

He liked to work out and look good.

Me met the Yankees.

He was a young man working his way through this world. He was much too young to die.

I am reminded of a poem by the Irish poet, William Butler Yeats. He was in his 30s when he wrote "He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven"

HAD I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:	5
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.