A life not lived

When a young person dies, the relatives must shoulder the burden of "What if...".

Brian Cachia would have been 31 now. He would probably have been promoted at Cantor Fitzgerald, the financial services firm he joined in August 2001.

He would probably be married to Suzie, who he got engaged to in September 2001, and might even have children - perhaps even a boy to carry on the family name.

His family will never know for sure how his life would have turned out. He worked on the 103rd floor of the World Trade Centre, the floor hit by the first aircraft at 8.48 a.m. on September 11 five years ago. He shouldn't even have been there at the time. He had gone in to work early to sort out some computer glitches.

The Times first came across Brian's name on the CNN website a week later. An internet search of the New York telephone directory turned up his number. The message on the answerphone was from Suzie, begging for information about his whereabouts. That eventually led to his family, in particular his Maltese-born grandfather Joseph Cachia, who had emigrated to the US from Vittoriosa in 1944, and who until recently still visited his relatives in Zabbar.

Joseph, now 80, and his Irish-born wife Lilian were very close to Brian. Pat Cachia, Brian's aunt, saw him age overnight.

"I know my father hurts very badly. This is a man who survived the sinking of two ships by the Germans in World War II only to see his grandson murdered. Brian was the last in our family to carry the name. To an old man, this all means very, very much and it has broken him."

The Cachias are determined that people should not forget. Pat set up a website dedicated to him which helped a great deal.

"Brian's website was and is my therapy. I never built a website before and I started from scratch," she said.

"Each song and picture was in my head... It had to be just right. Everything was put there for Brian. I knew he wanted it; I felt it in my heart.

"When someone writes in the guestbook, it makes us feel good. I know that when someone has visited the site, they have gotten to know him. I read each entry many times because it makes me feel good to know that someone took the time to write to us."

Every year on his birthday, July 20, they put a notice with his picture in the New York Daily News. For days after, dozens of strangers post messages on Brian's website, sharing the family's memories, joining hundreds of other messages posted from people all over the world moved by the tributes, poems and pictures.

A slide show captures his life from a baby through to a tall, chubby teenager who loved fishing, fooling around in family photos, his engagement and then, abruptly, the next photo is the one on his missing poster.

Brian was one of the 1,150 people killed whose remains were never found. All his family have is a jar of dirt from Ground Zero and a box where they keep September 11 mementoes.

Rituals help fill the void. The days leading up to September 11 are very emotional.

"It is like reliving everything all over again; it builds up. A great sadness takes over you. You enter your own world of silent mourning," Pat said.

Every September 11, she lowers her American flag - a special one bearing the name of everyone lost that day - to half mast and heads to Ground Zero.

"I spend the morning listening to the names of each victim. As I hear each name, my heart aches. I know instinctively without looking at my watch when each tower was hit and when each one fell. I raise my face to the sky when the bells toll for each event..." she said.

Mr Cachia still goes to Ground Zero. He openly admits that he cries as the names are read out, "from the first name to the last name".

"It is getting harder every year," he said.

Lilian is not in good health and her eyesight is failing. She never went to Ground Zero. Neither did Brian's father, also called Joseph, who moved out of New York.

The family lay flowers in the reflective pools, with a poem and his picture. They have laminated them, punched with a hole, so that they are easier to tie to bouquets. They then go to the 20th floor of 1 Liberty Plaza, a small room for the families overlooking Ground Zero. There they catch up with other families and the messages and photos added since the previous year. Eventually, they go home and Pat puts her flag back to full mast.

"Going to the Pit has become a comfort. I'm with people who understand and feel the same way. We cry, we write to our loved ones, we bring things to them, we pray, we stand there alone, together. I feel safe there. I know Brian is there."

Pat also goes there on Christmas Day, leaving a small gift under the Christmas tree that Brian always went to see.

She and Brian's mother always wear a stainless steel bracelet with his name on, engraved with the message "Forever in our hearts". They sent me one to wear, saying they would be honoured if I would wear it. I am wearing it right now.

As the families deal with their personal losses, the world too is trying to come to terms with what happened. Pat is one of those who believe the towers should be rebuilt as they were.

"It leaves your heart empty when you drive to the city and they are not on the skyline."

She is frustrated that it is taking so long to build a memorial.

"There are too many politicians involved trying to make sure that they are seen and heard, instead of worrying about a memorial to everyone lost that day."

She is also unsure about the films made about the attacks, Flight 93 and Oliver Stone's World Trade Centre, saying that she does not feel that she would be able to see them at the cinema.

She thinks, however, that it is good to remind people what happened as they are getting complacent. To the Cachias, the worst thing would be if people forgot. A poem on Brian's site is a brutal reminder:

"What are you doing right now?

Have you forgotten?

It wasn't very long ago... that you received a wake-up call.

Have you forgotten already?

Do you think the wound has healed?"

www.briancachia.com