A List of Names, and Words of Remembrance

By VIVIAN YEE

They spoke of mothers and cousins, husbands and brothers-in-law. As New York's Sept. 11 commemoration ceremony reached its second hour, the relatives of the dead continued to read their family members' names and those of many others, in voices steady and cracked, strong and shaky.

Although most of the hundreds of people in attendance faced the platform where the readers are standing, others preferred to sit on stone benches away from the center of the ceremony, listening quietly. Still others made rubbings of the carvings of their relatives' names. Over it all, violinists, cellists and flutists played and the list of names went on, punctuated by personal remembrances and family news: a new grandson, the two sons now in college, the death of another relative.

“Half a lifetime of memories will never be enough,” Donna Fontana said of her cousin, Bart J. Ruggiere.

Nicolette Giammona s poke to her father, Vincent F. Giammona. “You're my hero,” she said, putting her hand to her mouth. “Happy birthday.”

Victoria Giordano paid tribute to both her father and her mother. “Mom, Nick, Alexandra and I miss you every day,” she said. “We love you. A thousand kisses.”

“All the boys are at the cemetery right now, drinking their Budweisers like they do every year,” said Debra Guja, who read the name of her husband, Geoffrey E. Guja, as a flute played “Amazing Grace.” “Life is short; don't blink.”

Some invoked God or praised military service members who fought in the wars following the attacks. But nearly all spoke of how the void the attacks left in their lives still remained.

“And my nephew, Mark Hindy,” said Jacqueline Hernandez. “Mark, they say time heals all wounds. It's not true, Mark.”

Gregory Hoffman spoke to those who, like Mr. Hoffman himself, lost a twin, and to families of other Cantor Fitzger ald employees who died in the attacks. “The bond God created in mom's womb can never be destroyed by hatred or death,” he said to his identical twin brother, Stephen G. Hoffman.

Many said their loved ones, though dead, continued to serve as inspirations. “I'm going to be hiking Svengali for you, so kick my butt up there,” Elaine Hughes said, addressing her son, Kris R. Hughes.

Every so often - at 9:03 a.m., when a plane struck the south tower; 9:37 a.m., when another flight struck the Pentagon; 10:03 a.m., when United Airlines Flight 93 crashed near Shanksville, Pa.; and 9:59 and 10:28 a.m., when the towers fell - the commemoration fell silent, and a silver bell rang. Then the reading continued.