September 11, 2006

Dear Dad,

Hey, it's me, Jack. How are you? I hope you're good. I know it's been a while since I last wrote but, well… it's the anniversary. I just had to.

Mom's busy as ever. She's exhausted herself, trying to make ends meet. To help, I took up a job at that auto center, you know, the one that's just a short walk. Gives me robot parts, makes me a little stronger, and lets Mom rest. I never really see her, with her job and everything. I know that the divorce went wrong, but I'm pretty sure she misses you. Sometimes, while she's asleep and I come up for a glass of milk, she'll say your name. Kinda nostalgic, don't you think, Dad?

You remember my dream of world domination? Remember how we always used to joke that someday I'd rule the world? So far, sadly, I'm failing miserably. Everyone says I'm a lousy villain, and I suppose they'd be right. But, they're not. If I wanted to be a villain, I'd just create a doomsday weapon to take all the wu. I don't want to be evil, but good guys can't rule the world. It's really annoying, frankly. Someday, though, I know I'll rule the world. When I do, everyone will remember you and your friends. Those sick bastards will pay for what they did. When I rule the world, no one will be hurt by people like them.

Maybe, I'll be able to talk to you again. I've been doing some research, and I discovered this wu that lets people talk to spirits. I'm getting that wu, no matter what – for me, for Mom, heck, even for Megan. We all miss you. Besides, Megan wants to know what Heaven's like.

Say, how are Artie and Silas? I'm sure they're up there too, probably hanging out with you. I assume they're good too. I'm still in touch with their families in New York. It's depressing, but I try and help them feel better. They have good days and bad days. We all designed this huge memorial for you and everyone else. I enclosed a copy so you can see it. Let me know what you think, ok?

Well, I have to go. A new wu just lit up. I'll write again soon, ok? Just say hi to Artie and Silas for me, ok? Talk to you later, Dad.

Love,

Jack R. Spicer

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September 11, 2006

Dear Uncle Ritchie,

How's Heaven? Jack said he wrote earlier, but I wanted to write to you too. Are Grandma and Grandpa up there? How are they? Are you good? What do angels look like?

I miss the times when I came over and you and Aunt Annie would play jump rope with me. I remember Jack coming out to play sometimes. Remember how bad he used to be? He can actually jump rope some now.

I miss you Uncle Ritchie. Why did those men crash into the Towers? What did they want? Jack told me how you and two of your friends got trapped, helping that man in a wheelchair get out. We both wish you and Aunt Annie hadn't divorced. Maybe you'd still be here, or we could've seen you one last time before 9/11.

When I get into Heaven, will I get to see you again? Or will you be helping people on Earth as an angel? If you are, I'll wait for you to come back. Then we could jump rope again.

Jack was pretty sad when he left. Can you make him feel better? Please, for your favorite niece?

I love you Uncle Ritchie. I hope to see you again one day.

Love,

Megan L. Spicer