my cousin bobby mcilvaine was 26 years old on september 11, 2001. i was four years old, and admittedly have no memory of that day. i remember the days that followed, remember sensing that something wasn’t right with the adults in my life. i remember sitting on my dad’s lap in the computer room and seeing images of the perpetrators and asking “are those the guys that did it, daddy?” every year on 9/11 i feel an odd sense that my grief isn’t sincere because i never got to know bobby. i worry that i have co-opted grief that isn’t really mine. i have heard so many wonderful stories. bobby the golden boy. bobby the writer. bobby the student of toni morrison. bobby the guy who scored against kobe bryant in high school. bobby the angel. back in 2021, for the 20th anniversary of 9/11 theatlantic published a story about bobby and my family’s journey with grief. it was written by jennifer senior, whose brother was bobby’s roommate at princeton. i had so many people reach out to me. “th...