E-Mail This Article to a Friend 9/11 REMEMBERED The glare of mourning BY CHRIS WRIGHT

For those who lost loved ones in the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, personal grief is sometimes a very public affair. Earlier this week, a group of local 9/11 families gathered at the Ritz-Carlton to mark the unveiling of Boston’s September 11 memorial, situated across the street from the Ritz in the Public Garden. Governor Mitt Romney, Mayor Thomas Menino, and Senator Edward Kennedy were among the event’s speakers. There were rumors that John Kerry might show up. Clearly, this was not an occasion to shed a quiet tear.

Seated at round tables in a hotel ballroom, the "community of survivors," as one speaker described them, were served fruit plates by a team of bustling waiters. Glasses of OJ sat atop crisp white linens. For the most part, breakfast went untouched. Some of the guests wore pins bearing the images of those who perished in the attacks, while others carried poster-size photographs — "Janis & Don: Together Forever." But generally the mood was fairly upbeat. The event, after all, was meant to be a celebration of sorts.

For the past year or so, the Massachusetts 9/11 Fund — along with the Public Garden Memorial Family Committee — has been involved in tricky negotiations with what 9/11 Fund president Faith Arter describes as "an elaborate labyrinth of agencies" to erect the first memorial on the grounds of the Public Garden in more than a century. Even for those who were hit hardest on September 11, the Boston Landmarks Commission is no pushover. But then neither are the family-advocacy groups that have sprung up in the wake of the attacks. The survivors, after all, had Mitt, Tom, and Ted on their side.

If there are certain benefits afforded 9/11 families, there are costs, too. During Romney’s speech at the Ritz, a woman bolted from the room in tears and a hundred necks swiveled. Survivors who cradled each other became fodder for the evening news. Later, when the dignitaries and family members made their way into the Garden for the "private" unveiling, adjacent Arlington Street took on a carnival atmosphere. When Kerry showed up, it was bedlam. There was, from the street at least, little interest in the memorial.

After Kerry had been whisked away in his black SUV, the mikes turned on the survivors, who recounted their stories in ways that said they’d been through this before. A man named Blake Allison explained to reporters how his wife Anna had died aboard American Airlines Flight 11, how she usually flew on Mondays rather than Tuesdays, but this time.... Allison, whose face bore a strained smile, stood and answered questions about his deceased wife while his daughter listened nearby. It seemed a strange way to treat someone in mourning, but grief in the context of 9/11 is a matter of public record. Fair game.

The next morning, the Contemplative Garden, as the monument and its surroundings are called, was opened to the public. At 7 a.m., a single visitor regarded the knee-high arc of pink granite and the 202 names etched into it, the benches and potted plants. At his feet was a poem about the Public Garden — "Boston Thoughts" — engraved in the ground: "Time touches all more gently here." As the man sipped his coffee, he was approached by a woman with a microphone. A cameraman stood by to record his thoughts.