I was Evan's fiancee. He and I lived together for 1+ years until the day he died. Evan was one of the kindest, gentlest souls I've known. Though his family chose not to acknowledge our relationship, I knew deeply Evan's fears, hopes, joys, and pain. We were together on 9/11 - we went to work together that morning, shared "I love you"s and kisses as we parted ways on Wall Street to go to our offices. We had just returned

I was Evan's fiancee. He and I lived together for 1+ years until the day he died. Evan was one of the kindest, gentlest souls I've known. Though his family chose not to acknowledge our relationship, I knew deeply Evan's fears, hopes, joys, and pain. We were together on 9/11 - we went to work together that morning, shared "I love you"s and kisses as we parted ways on Wall Street to go to our offices. We had just returned from a wonderful vacation days before, we were setting up our new apartment that we'd just moved into on the Upper East Side weeks before, my engagement ring was being made and our matching pre-engagement silver band ring was on his right hand when he died. Mine is buried in Scotland, an area that was particularly special to Evan. Those who erased the last two years of his happiness did Evan a grave injustice. The religious dogma and high moral ground used to justify their bad behaviour, lies, and cruelty, and to maintain images of fine, upstanding citizenry, is not forgotten. From holding back information that the NYPD needed to recover his body the day after at the NYC armory, to sending his brother, a retired cop, and a pilot to our home 2 days later while I was at a 9/11 service for family, spouses and friends - an attempted home break-in in my absence to get Evan's financial papers; I happened to come home as this was unfolding. And, sending Ct. cop family friends to our home with moving trucks without my knowledge while I was not home to take our furniture and other items - items my sister had already advised the family would be packed and sent back at a pre-determined, mutually agreed-upon day; the trucks were staked out down the block and the Ct. cop family friends awaited my return - when I arrived, on the city street in front of our apartment building, they were purposefully aggressive and intimidating in the midst of my own grief and shock. And, because I sold my furniture when Evan and I moved in together early on, when the family doggedly insisted on retrieving the furniture that was then ours, I was left with an empty apartment in the midst of my own pain. All while I was taking care of everything I needed to do on behalf of Evan - bringing hair samples, toothbrush, and underwear to be tested for forensic purposes and preparing a memorial service at the Cathedral St. John the Divine, among many other things. And all this while I was getting myself to counseling sessions for Sandler O'Neil spouses and fiancees. The list goes on. This all in a few days following 9/11. I know well they lost a loved, dear, sweet member of their family and were in a great deal of pain. But I also lost my fiance, partner, and friend - a man whose love and happiness in those final days was never acknowledged or regarded. That is and will always be shameful. God does not like ugly. I finally said what I needed to say all these years later. Bless you all on your way.

I remember when I was little at my grandma's house. My sister and I were very excited for Christmas the next morning, but that night we got to open some presents. Evan gave my sister and I each a Groovy Girl doll. I loved it and hugged him so hard, and he smiled at me. I remember that smile, it glowed and I told him that I loved him. He said he loved me too.

Then when September came the

I remember when I was little at my grandma's house. My sister and I were very excited for Christmas the next morning, but that night we got to open some presents. Evan gave my sister and I each a Groovy Girl doll. I loved it and hugged him so hard, and he smiled at me. I remember that smile, it glowed and I told him that I loved him. He said he loved me too.

Then when September came the next year, I was only four years old. I remember sitting on my mom's bed looking at the televison watching a tower crash down. I asked my mom if Evan was in the building because I knew he worked in New York City. I just remeber my mom saying, "I really don't know honey, maybe." I started to cry, and then days later my grandparent's told me he died.

Now ten years later, my heart is still missing a chunk, wanting just one more day with Evan. Everybody in my family still misses him.

I love you evan, and may you rest in peace.