Ten years ago this weekend, history changed for ever when a series of terrorist attacks on the US killed almost 3,000 people and left the lives of countless others in ruins. Former Royal Gazette reporter Karen Smith travelled to Ground Zero with the family of 9/11 victim Boyd Gatton as they tried to come to terms with their loss. Here she remembers the stark reality of that weekend.It was Thanksgiving weekend 2001 a weekend that will be etched in my memory for ever. Ironically, there seemed little to be thankful for. I was travelling to New York with the family of Bermudian 9/11 victim Boyd Gatton as they tried to find closure, and faced the grim task of packing up his apartment and his affairs.Having spoken to them only a few times since the terror attacks on September 11 that year, I was taken aback by the invitation, but nervously accepted, unsure how it would go, whether they would change their minds about me being there midway through, and whether they would clam up in my presence.But ever the journalist, I tagged along, grateful for the invitation, interested in recording their story and eager to see for myself the state the Big Apple had been left in.As we met at the airport, little did I realise the impact that weekend would have on me, and the extraordinary warmth and acceptance I would be shown. It was to be an incredibly humbling experience. So strong, so together and without an ounce of bitterness, I witnessed a family in the depths of despair who were holding each other together and dealing with the pain so stoically. I doubted that if the shoe were on the other foot I would have held up quite so well, and certainly would not have welcomed strangers along.Boyd, 38, was working for Fiduciary Trust Company on the 97th floor of the second of the twin towers to be hit by the suicide hijackers on that fateful day ten years ago.He had moved to New York from Bermuda some ten years earlier, eager to experience new things and further his career.Boyd had built a great life for himself in the city, had many friends, numerous hobbies and a busy work life, but remained close with his family back home.His nieces, Rukiya O’Connor, Kenderee Gatton and Shalynn Smith had been planning to visit Boyd for Thanksgiving since August, and after the atrocities occurred and their uncle was presumed dead, they decided to go anyway.They would stay at his Jersey City apartment, as planned, where Boyd’s sister Pauline O’ Connor had spent much of her time since 9/11.Inside Boyd’s flat all was as though he would be returning home from work that evening. On our arrival everyone hugged and cried for a while but then started remembering Boyd with funny stories, flicking through his countless books and familiarising themselves with his many framed family photos on the walls.Pauline explained that when she first arrived at the apartment on September 20 there had been 53 missed calls on Boyd’s home phone, and his voicemail was full of messages from concerned friends and family looking for some reassurance that he was okay. They were messages that Boyd never returned.Among the starkest of my memories is a journal that Pauline had been writing since first arriving in New York to search for her kid brother.For her, the journal was therapy and a means for her to talk to Boyd, but so real and sad were her entries they have remained with me ever since.Some days she had much to say and others very little. It all depended on her mood.One entry read: “Michael, your neighbour, called down today. He cried.”Another one simply stated: “Not feeling too good today Boyd. I will write tomorrow.”On the surface, the apartment was still filled with Boyd, but on closer inspection it was consumed with grief. A calendar hung on the wall giving some insight into Pauline’s tasks in the city so far, such as “death certificate”, “memorial”, “fax memorial papers”.She admitted to consciously filling her days with her brother’s affairs in a deliberate attempt to block out the trauma and the ensuing grief.But she was sleeping in Boyd’s bed, cooking at his stove, and getting to know his many friends and colleagues. In so many respects she was living Boyd’s life, yet he played no part in it.The most anticipated part of the weekend, however, was a planned visit to Ground Zero, where Boyd’s family would be taken on a “tour” of the epicentre by a police liaison officer.Eager to visit together in order to gain some closure, it was obvious they were anxious and a little tense as we began the journey to the spot where Boyd lost is life.Travelling by ferry across the Hudson River towards the financial centre of Lower Manhattan, we all stood in silence as we surveyed the famous skyline, which had been so obviously desecrated.But it was not until we walked the short distance to the site where the World Trade Center had once stood that the full impact of the devastation hit home.I had only been there six months earlier, dining at the Windows on the World restaurant near the top of one of the towers for my 30th birthday, yet, I could not recognise where I had been, or even the streets around us.Scores of people queued in silence for a chance to file past the gates to the eerie site, which had become a graveyard to so many, and candles burned and photographs of the missing were constant reminders of the pain and sorrow that lay heavy in the air.Inside a police 4x4, Boyd’s family and friends, including his girlfriend Audrey McKenzie and his best friend Will Garcia, stared at the site before them, tears flowing amid their private thoughts.It was a scene we had all seen so many times on TV during the previous two months, yet seeing police and firefighters work around the mound of rubble at the centre of the disaster zone, complete with the metal frame of one of the towers sitting aloft, was something we could never have prepared for.Finally the family broke down and said their farewells to Boyd. It was a painful experience but one they knew they had to endure.After three months in New York, Pauline eventually returned to Bermuda to begin the grieving process for her brother.However, it was not over. The following year, a police officer knocked on her door to say that pieces of Boyd’s remains had been found at Ground Zero and it was believed he had been crushed in the collapse of the towers.Despite the additional heartache, they realised they were among the lucky ones and were now able to finally hold a funeral for him.The family of fellow Bermudian Rhondelle Tankard, who was also killed in the attacks on the twin towers, were not so fortunate. They had hoped to find something pertaining to their 31-year-old daughter, who had only been seconded to the New York office of Aon Bermuda a couple of days prior to the attacks.However, neither she nor any of her jewellery or belongings were ever found, leaving her family struggling to come to terms with their loss.In contrast, Boyd’s remains were buried in a private ceremony near his Jersey City home, albeit in a tiny child’s white coffin.Pauline said at the time: “After it first happened we thought he had been directly hit. He was working on the 97th floor of the second of the Twin Towers, so we believed his office would have been one of those directly affected.“We never thought there would be a body.“When we were told he had been crushed, I felt quite bad about it because I had believed his death had been instantaneous. I could not bear to think that he had suffered and now I know that he did.”I choose not to think of Boyd in those last minutes, and instead think of the kindness of his family, the loyalty of his friends, and the full and happy life he had led.During that weekend, Kenderee gave me a tiny picture of Boyd, which I placed in my wallet for safe-keeping. To this day, it remains there, along with treasured pictures of my children and husband.It is rare in a journalist’s life that a story, or a person, touches you in such a lasting way, but my memories of 9/11 will forever be of Boyd Gatton and the people who loved him. I feel privileged to have been there.