Throughout the book Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, Oskar repeatedly refers back to his memory of 9/11. He vividly describes the day he walked home from school to the last messages and phone call of his father shortly before he died. The recurrence of Oskars’ memory reminded me of two things.

On the day the twin towers fell, the only day I recall of my third grade life, I remember sitting in my third grade classroom (as were most of us) when classmates were called to leave for home one by one. No one knew what happened except the teachers who were constantly walking in to the room and whispering to each other. As a child, I was more curious and excited than fearful of what was going on. I was one of the last children to be picked up and brought home to my Godmother’s. Sitting in the kitchen I remember as every news channel talked about the same thing, but I was too young to realize the severity of the situation. Although my experience in comparison to Oskars’ does not hold as much sentimental value, it is still a significant memory of mine.

The feelings and emotions that Oskar and his mother felt right before the fathers death reminded me of my freshman year of high school when I came home to an empty house one day and found out that my godfather (he is like a second father to me) was sent to the emergency room. I remember feeling a kind of drowning, gut feeling. In my head I was panicking. I felt scared and I was scared of feeling loss. A million thoughts were running through my head. My godfather had a ruptured cerebral aneurysm and needed surgery. These are often deadly, but thankfully he survived.