Some still say that they can see the smoke rising like it was yesterday. In some minds, it will always be “yesterday.” But it’s not. It was one decade ago.

One decade ago the world stood still. One decade ago America proved its unity. One decade later was yesterday.

“It really hasn’t hit me,” Meaghan Haskell, a recent MHS graduate who lost her father Thomas Haskell and her uncle, Timothy Haskell, in the line of duty, said “but it’s been a thought in the back of my mind for my entire life.”

Haskell has spent these past ten years growing up with someone missing – physically. But he was there – in her heart.

“I’ve always thought about how much my life has changed in the past ten years and what might have been different,” she said. “I’ve thought about what my dad has missed, like prom, graduation, and meeting important people in my life.”

These moments make up what every 9/11 victim has experienced throughout the 3,652 days since the Towers fell.

Since, the Haskell family has remembered their lost brothers everyday. But there’s one day in particular – the annual golf outing in memory of their loved ones favorite past-time.

“I may not have always noticed it, but 9/11 has indirectly impacted each and every one of my decisions every single day,” Haskell said, “and it always will.

For some families, the only reliever they know is their voice. For the Pascuma family of Massapequa Park and the Cain family of Massapequa, storytelling is their healer.

The Pascuma family lost husband and father, Michael Pascuma, a stockbroker at the Twin Towers and a well-known Massapequa resident. A stone outside of St. Rose Church of Lima has been resting in Pascuma’s memory ever since. The Cain family lost son, brother and uncle, firefighter George Cain, who graduated from MHS in 1984.

When George’s mother, Rosemary Cain, was asked how she keeps her son’s memory alive, she simply replied, with no hesitation, “I talk about my son.”

Cain volunteers at the 9/11 memorial site where she meets thousands of people every year. Each one of them has heard George’s name.

“I walk with them, and I tell them my son’s story,” she said, “there’s a presence there, it is a very sacred place, it’s where they all took their last breath and it feels as though they’re all there with us.

The Pascuma family also has their own stories to tell.

“For the last five years we’ve been having a big family dinner on the night of September 11,” Melissa Pascuma-Gangi, an MHS alumni said, “we tell stories, and we look back, but sometimes the best thing is to just relax – together.”

Gangi was 23 years old on that day, her brother Michael was 20, and her youngest brother Christopher was a sophomore at MHS. Since, the siblings have spent these past ten years in their own ways – pursuing grad school, beginning their careers, and starting their own families.

For Melissa, her daughters have been a reflection of her father each and every day.

“My oldest daughter, I named her Madison Michael for a reason. She’ll say to me ‘Do you miss your daddy?’ or she’ll hold a picture of him and say ‘Do you wish you could take him out of the picture and hold him?’” she said, “And every time the answer is ‘yes.’

The same reflection is seen within the Cain family every day. George’s nieces and nephew’s, Christopher, Meaghan, and Conor, have taken his adventurous spirit with them through the decade.

“The three of them spent so much time with him, he was the fun uncle that every little kid wanted,” Cain said. “He would take them on all of his adventures, he was a skier, a golfer, a mountain climber – and that stuck with the kids.”

However, there is one child that exhibits the most of George’s full-of-life persona.

“Conor,” Cain said, “I definitely see the most of George in Conor. He is very kind-hearted, he loves everybody, he loves life, he loves the world – just like George.”

These reflections have been the reason for the division of each family’s life: a life before that day, and a life after that day.

“So many things have changed since that day,” Gangi said, “I feel like that was a different life; I think we all do.”

Yet the one thing connecting this before and after sequence is something that will never fade – her father’s smile.

“That’s what keeps me going,” she said, “to know that he was always happy and always smiling is … it’s amazing.”

Gangi went on to describe what she calls “the small things,” the little moments that her father created and appreciated, whether it be listening to Zydeco music in the morning (feel free to Google that), dancing around while making coffee together, or watching him play golf – even if she didn’t like the game.

“I just always wanted to be around him, I’d sit there just to watch him play,” she said, “I’ve passed the golf course since and I still feel like he’s there.”

And just as the Pascuma family has kept their father with them through everything during these last ten years, the Cain family has made sure to do the exact same thing – whether it’s lighting a candle, or placing a Christmas tree in front of the firehouse every year.

“Sometimes it’s just as simple as saying a prayer,” Cain said, “he’s everywhere. Pictures of him are everywhere throughout the house, and they will be here throughout the next ten years.”

However, Cain doesn’t know how these next ten years will be, or the ten years after that. All she knows is that her son’s presence will still be alive inside of their home, their family, and their hearts.

“It’s not about 9/11,” she said.. “It’s about the 35 years that he lived.”

Recently, the Pascuma family took part in something the entire nation is doing to remember the years the victims lived.

Tuesday’s Children, a non-profit dedicated to serving the lives of 9/11 families has compiled a personal collection of letters, the Legacy Letters, to be published in honor of those lost. The proceeds will support the organization’s counseling, mentoring, health and wellness programs, as well as the Project Common Bond – its international peace project to end terrorism.

“I wrote one for dad,” she said, “I thought he deserved it.

Peter Gangi, Melissa’s husband, has also believed that writing is a form of healing these last ten years. Through small notes, post-its, or letters, Melissa and her husband will pick up a piece of paper from time to time, and write down a memory that pops into their head.

“We don’t want to forget it, it sounds a little silly,” she said, “but we write it down right away…and we save it.”

Hearing these stories reminded me of a quote that I once heard.

Gandhi once said, “Whatever you do in life will be insignificant, but it’s very important that you do it.” As the years pass by, and the pages of the calendar get further away from September 11, 2001 each day, remembering might seem insignificant at times – as though it won’t change anything. But that’s okay. Remembering is meant for us to bring back those moments we wish we could, even if it’s just writing something on a piece of paper – even if it’s just for a second. It’s very important that we do it.

Closure may never come, the fear may come back, but the memories remain alive within all of us – the good ones. The ones of a dad’s warm hug, of a child’s smiling face, of the way a mother smelled, of a firefighter beaming in the line of duty – they remain alive. Forever.