By Brian Zanzonico
Four years have passed since Kiefer, 25, was killed along with 342 other New York firefighters and more than 2,400 civilians in the World Trade Center attacks of Sept. 11, 2001. In that short time, many of the people who were part of the Kiefers¹ lives before and immediately after his death have faded from view, and their phone calls and visits have ceased.
So Kiefer¹s sisters, Lauren, 25, and Kerri, 23, decided that for what would have been his 30th birthday, on Dec. 5, they would surprise their parents, Pat and Bud, by filling the house with people who have comprised a rock-solid support system that has helped them since the death of their first child and only son.
³We got our family and friends together who have been with us since day one and had a surprise for our parents, ate cake, wrote on balloons and let them go,² said Kerri Kiefer, who wrote ³I miss you² on her balloon. ³I miss him more and more, and find that each day gets harder and harder. People have been telling me it gets easier, but it only gets harder.²
Kerri was 19 when her brother was killed, and the years before that day are filled with memories. During his grade school days at St. Catherine of Sienna in Franklin Square, Michael would set up fake fire scenes outside their home and cast his sisters in the roles of probationary firefighters. His love of firefighting was forged as a child, when Bud would take him to the Franklin Square and Munson Fire Department on weekends to keep him occupied.
When Michael was old enough, he bought a police scanner and trekked to fire calls on his bike. More than once he was escorted home by police officers who spotted him wandering around fires in tough neighborhoods. In his teens he joined junior firefighter programs in several local neighborhoods, and hoped to one day turn his passion into career.
After graduating from St. Mary¹s High School in Manhasset in 1994, Kiefer joined the fire cadet program at John Jay College of Criminal Justice. The experience culminated with a job with the New York City Fire Department as a paramedic. A year and a half later, he took the exam to become a firefighter. In December 2000, he became a probationary fireman in Engine Co. 280/Ladder Co. 132 firehouse in Crown Heights.
After Kiefer was killed less than a year later, his devastated family leaned on one another and their friends. But with the passage of time, that has changed. ³A lot of people don¹t call anymore and think we should be over this,² Kerri said. ³It¹s not something to get over.²
Those who have remained close to the Kiefers were invited to commemorate Michael¹s birthday. Each Dec. 5 since 2001, Lauren and Kerri have decorated a Long Beach boardwalk bench bearing their brother¹s name with balloons and cards. Kiefer¹s remains were never recovered, so the bench serves as a memorial where the family reflects on his brief but full life. They sit on the bench and stare out at the same ocean Kiefer watched for years as a Long Beach lifeguard.
³We always make his birthdays special, but since he was 30 this year, we made it extra special,² said Kerri.
With everyone hushed in the Kiefers¹ darkened home on Dec. 5, Pat and Bud opened the front door to 30 people ‹ one for each year of their son¹s life ‹ shouting in unison not ³Surprise!² but ³We remember!²
³They were shocked when they came in, emotional,² Kerri said. ³Then we made a toast to him. It was very emotional, but as the night wore on, people started sharing stories and it got easier. My parents were so happy.²
Kerri said that one of her best therapies for dealing with her big brother¹s loss is to find ways to memorialize him, usually through fund-raisers in his name for the New York Firefighters Burn Center Foundation. This year she nominated him for the Herald¹s 2005 Person of the Year. ³That¹s one more way people will know about him, because I never want his memory forgotten,² she said.
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