I remember everything about that Tuesday morning. I remember that where I lived at the time the weather was absolutely beautiful just as it was in New York City. There was a crispness in the air that morning and it was obvious that fall was right around the corner - a welcome break from the heat and humidity of that summer.

I was driving, on my way back home from an early dentist appointment when I heard the radio announcer say something about a plane crashing into the World Trade Center. Immediately my attention turned from my sensitive teeth to what was being said on the radio. I quickly turned up the volume to try and determine exactly what was being said, what was going on - but they immediately cut to a commercial.

I wasn’t far from home so I sped up just a bit thinking I’d run in and turn on the TV and most likely catch something on CNN about whatever it was that had happened. A few minutes later I arrived home, sat down on the sofa and turned on the television. It was where I would sit for the rest of that day.

Having lived in New York, I had a few good friends there. I immediately thought of them and tried to call but it was obvious that no one was getting through. After a dozen or so times of trying, I gave up. I sat and stared in utter shock and disbelief at what was unfolding on my television but was painfully aware that this was not some Hollywood-manufactured scene I was watching, this was real. It was unreal. It is still unreal.

It turns out that I did not lose anyone, that I personally knew, in the attacks on the World Trade Center that day. It didn’t matter that I didn’t personally know any of the people who lost their lives that day, it still hurt more than I could explain. I hurt thinking about the thousands of children who had just lost their mothers or fathers. I hurt thinking about the thousands of husbands who lost their wives and wives who lost their husbands. I hurt thinking about the brothers and sisters and grandparents and friends and babies who lost loved ones.

One such family I cried for that day, though I didn’t know at the time, was the family of Stephen Louis Roach. Stephen, 36 years old, was vice president and director of sales for Cantor Fitzgerald Securities, North American division. He worked on the 105th Floor of One World Trade Center and it was there that he lost his life that sunny September morning.

In attempting to learn more about Stephen’s life, I searched and searched Google but I was unable to learn as much about Stephen as I had hoped I could. All of my searching yielded only a couple of results. I will share with you what I learned about him.

I learned that Stephen was a hard worker and a real family man. He was a husband for 16 years to Isabel and father to two daughters, Mackenzie and Eileen, and a son, Stephen, Jr. At the time they lost their father, the children were ages 9, 10 and 11, respectively.

He was described as “very cute and charming”. He was an athletic six feet, 200 pounds. He met his wife, Isabel when they were both academic interns at the Washington Center, in Washington, D.C. Stephen, a native Bostonian, went to Washington after he graduated from Anselm College in 1986 hoping to meet the woman of his dreams, which is exactly what he did.

A highly intelligent man, he knew a lot about big-time financial deals, but the true measure of his humanity was his empathy and good-heartedness. His wife Isabel said, “Stephen was about doing for others, making a difference in others’ lives…he was generous, not only with money, but also with his time.” His good-hearted activities included working for charitable organizations such as the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. He was involved in raising awareness of fibrodysplasia ossificans progressiva, a rare genetic disorder that struck the child of one of his close friends.

His family and friends affectionaletly called Stephen, “Roachie”. He loved sports and was a frequent golfer. He was assistant coach of boy’s basketball and baseball teams, where his son, Stephen Jr. played ball. “He didn’t care about winning,” said Stephen Jr. “He cared that everyone had a fun time and that everyone played.”

Stephen also had fine taste in red wines and he and his father-in-law enjoyed spending time together making their own wines.

When it came to providing for his family, he had a tenacious work ethic and his challenging spirit took him to high-level positions with major financial institutions including Garband, Manufacturers Hanover Trust Co. and Merrill Lynch. For the last six years of his life he worked at Cantor Fitzgerald.

To his family and his friends, his wife and especially his children, Stephen was a hero. His 9 year old daughter Mackenzie said, “If he got out of the building, he went back in to save someone’s life.”

Stephen did call his wife’s cell phone that morning, seemingly aware that he was not going to make it. He said that he loved her and their children and he told her to never erase his final message.

The legacy that Stephen left behind is most clearly reflected in his family, in his children. Mackenzie, his youngest child, is funny like her father. Eileen has his smarts. Stephen Jr. has his passion for sports.

Aside from his wife and children, Roach was survived by his parents, Richard and Lian Roach, a brother, Richard and four sisters, Mary Jane Roach, Catherine Mullen, Geraldine Frey and Patricia Sullivan.

This is all I was able to learn about Stephen, but it is my hope that we all remember his sacrifice and the sacrifice made by the 2,995 others who lost their lives in the terrorist attacks five years ago today. By remembering them, not only today but everyday, we honor them and pay them due respect for who they were to their friends and their families as well as for the many and various contributions they made to their communities, to society, to our world.

For five years we’ve seen the signs everywhere: “9/11 - never forget”. Let us be mindful of what happened to us as a country five years ago today. Let us be mindful of all our blessings, of all the good we have in our lives, of the beauty this world still holds. Let us remember to tell the people that we love how much they mean to us. Remember the things that are important. Forget about the ones that are not.

Rest in peace, Stephen.

(To remember the other victims, go here.)