They say time flies when you are having fun, but what about when you are trying to exist after living through the worst atrocity in human history? In just 17 days, this world will mark the two year anniversary of the day senseless killers changed the fabric of human existence in as little as 102 minutes. But in those 102 minutes, 2,801 lives were lost, three buildings were destroyed - and eight billion people stood still and witnessed the end of the world as we knew it. And now, in just 17 days, I and the rest of the world get to relive that tragic Tuesday, all over again.

Personally, I can't believe it has been two years. In many ways, it feels like just yesterday. I can still feel the vibration of the ground as the first of the two Towers came crashing down. I can still see the sheer terror on people's faces as they witnessed the unthinkable - and I can still remember the realization that I will never see my friend Doug ever again.

And as if I have not spent enough time in the company of death, I am lucky enough to be one of the few Public Information Officers that gets re-deployed to the Mayor's Office of Emergency Management for September 11^th duty - so I can relive that awful day right in the belly of the beast. Last year, my detail placed me on the 10^th floor atrium of Two World Financial Center, perfectly overlooking Ground Zero. My tour was Midnight September 10^th until the end of the ceremony on September 11^th. Basically, I stayed up all night and watched the sun rise over the site of the worst terrorist attack in the world - just one year to the horrible day. And now, I get to do that again - one year later.

While I may sound like I am complaining, I am not. On the contrary, I feel there is no other place in the world I would - or should be. After all, I was there that day just minutes after the first plane hit Tower #1 - just ten feet from the cubicle where Doug sat innocently going about his day. And I saw every horrifying moment thereafter. From people jumping, to planes crashing - to Towers falling - and those images are something I could play in my head as clearly as if they were on a videotape that I just popped into my VCR. And while those dark images have stayed with me - even haunted me - they have never made my cry. I mean the big cry, the, "Oh my God, I can't believe what just happened," cry. And to be honest - I really need that in order for me to get past that terrible day - more than anyone can comprehend.

Woody got his big cry, the day we went to St. Patrick's Cathedral on September 28^th for the memorial service for all of the employees of Marsh & McLennan - the company Doug worked for. On that tragic Tuesday, Marsh lost Douglas Farnum - and 294 other employees. I remember when they ended the ceremony with Amazing Grace - and Woody began to sob uncontrollably. To be honest, I have never heard a man cry like that in my life - and to this day I envy him. I still have not had the one good cry that might help me vent some of this anger, sadness and heartache. I wish I could let out some of this pain that I have been carrying around for the last two years like an old, heavy suitcase. Maybe this year I will. For this year, I plan to go somewhere I have never gone at Ground Zero before - down into the bottom of the site, and lay a flower for my brother ­ who senselessly lost his life simply because he and the rest of the world have a difference in religious opinion then mindless killers.

So who knows. Maybe the decent into Hell on Earth will finally help me release my emotions - and help me come to grips with all that I witnessed that terrible Tuesday.

I hope so - I really hope so.

For Douglas - always.