Children Whose Hero Firefighter Father Died On 9/11, Including Baby Born 2 Weeks Later, Reflect: 'I Miss Him'

WESTHAMPTON, NY — Andrew Jordan was only nine years old, a student in fourth grade at Remsenburg-Speonk Elementary School, when he headed to school on September 11, 2001, under bright blue skies.

Andrew was a bright little boy who could name all the U.S. Presidents, loved playing baseball, Pokemon, and going to the beach — and was excited to be a big brother again. His mother Lisa and father Andrew Jordan Sr. were expecting their fourth child in days, a new baby to join Andrew, his brother Matthew, and sister Kelsey.

But when Andrew returned from fourth grade on that sparkling September day, he was forced to face a staggering reality that no child should have to bear — his beloved father would not be coming home.

Andrew Jordan Sr., a member of FDNY Engine 280, Ladder 132, died a hero on 9/11.

Today, 25 years have passed, decades and minutes and myriad moments, and that little 9-year-old boy has grown into a man whose life is forever shaped by unthinkable loss.

"I cannot believe it has been 25 years since 9/11. I think this anniversary, especially, is stunning," Andrew said. "We are a quarter of a century since that fateful day, and it still has a large impact on our world. In a lot of ways, I cannot put everything into words still because this was such a tragedy."

Looking back on a life lived without his father, Andrew said it's hard to express the magnitude of all that was lost.

"9/11 impacted my life every day over the last 25 years," he said.

However, he said: "This day impacted me differently throughout time. In the first several years afterward, it was such an 'in-your-face' sort of event. The loss and the immediate grieving and the processing of the event was prevalent, non-stop."

After 25 years, the emotions are different but no less etched with heartache, he said.

"I think in recent years it haunts me in a different way," Andrew said. "Seeing people get sick from 9/11-related illnesses who you have known for years. Explaining this day and its importance to people who were not alive for it"

And, he said, there is the singular sensation of "seeing people you grew up with, that you know, who lost someone — and you know how difficult it is for them, having to explain the event and their own loss."

Andrew said the world, too, shifted forever after 9/11 and today, is a place "where people can be very untrusting and still on edge."

Looking back, Andrew, who is now married to his wife Allie and a teacher in New Jersey, said: "9/11 impacted everything about my life. I don’t know how driven I would have been if 9/11 did not happen. It is a horrendous day, but what I try to think about is seeing how we try to build each other in the years since then."

Last week, Andrew said, he was able to attend a new exhibit that is opening at the National September 11 Memorial & Museum: "In Their Honor: 25 Years of 9/11-Inspired Service.

The exhibit, he explained, spotlights something he worked on at America's Camp in 2006, where children who lost family members on 9/11 created a phoenix sculpture, symbolizing how the human spirit "rises from the ashes," Andrew said. "We all try to serve our communities and try our best to make our country and world a better place."

Andrew said even 25 years later, his father's rich legacy is alive and vibrant. "I always try to carry with me the passion that my dad lived with," he said. "Trying to be the best version of myself, no matter what. Being someone who enjoys being around others and family — and savoring how special the moments we have with each other are. Trying to go the extra mile, no matter what. To me, this means giving my best for everyone every day and trying to be present in conversations. The people who are in our lives matter tremendously and I just try to be special to them — like how my dad is special to me."

While 25 years have passed, the pain is eternal, he said. "It is unbelievable that we are 25 years since September 11, and these anniversaries are still unbelievably tough. But I love my dad more and more every year. I am so lucky that I got to know my dad — and I am even luckier that I know he is always with me."

A pregnant wife, waiting for her beloved husband to come home

Andrew's brother Sean Jordan will turn 25 on Sept. 26, 2026. He was born 15 days after his father died.

In past years, Sean, his mother Lisa, and brother Andrew — the family now has a home in Westhampton but lived in Remsenburg on 9/11 —shared their hearts and memories about the day that changed their lives forever.

Lisa, ready to give birth to her fourth child in 2001, said her husband wasn't supposed to work that day; he'd traded shifts, banking up hours to spend with his family when the baby was born. He had just finished a 24-hour shift and had come home, taken a nap, then was ready to head out again.

"I remember the night I got the phone call that my husband was missing. It was nighttime on September 12, 12:20 a.m. The phone rang and I thought it was him calling and I said, 'Oh, thank God,' and I got up to answer it. They told me that they wanted me to know that my husband was missing. I said, 'What do you mean?' I couldn't understand it," she told Patch in a previous interview.

Her husband worked in Brooklyn, Lisa said; she couldn't fathom at first why he would have been in Manhattan — and believed that he would be found. She had called her mother, who lived in Queens, telling her to leave the door open for him, since he'd probably stay over at her house rather than travel back to the East End.

Her mother was crying, she said. But Lisa was holding on tightly to hope.

The next morning, she said, she woke her kids. "I told them, 'Daddy's missing, but he's okay. Get your backpacks.'" She remembers walking around the table, grabbing papers, and throwing them in the children's backpacks. "They probably went to school with coloring books," she said.

As the days passed, there was no word. Lisa was scheduled to give birth to Sean on Sept. 21. "I told the doctor, 'I want to wait.'" The doctor gave her until October 1; she scheduled the birth for Sept. 26 since her husband's birthday was January 26, she said. "Scheduling it for the 26th still gave me some time."

But after that phone call, Lisa said: "I always say it went from a nightmare to a bad dream."

Every day was the same day, she said. Lisa called a number for the Red Cross every hour, waiting for news. "But there was nothing. Still, I was hopeful that maybe the next hour, I'd hear something. That was how it was for days on end."

An endless stream of people stopped by their home, crying. "I thought, 'Why are they all upset? We're going to find him.'"

Before she left for the hospital to give birth, Lisa sat down with her small children; her oldest, Andrew, was in fourth grade and Matthew and Kelsey were even younger.

"If, God forbid, a phone call came and it was bad news, I didn't want them to hear it from anyone but me," she said.

Lisa spoke to the psychologist at the Remsenburg-Speonk Elementary School, where Andrew was enrolled. "She gave me a book about a leaf," Lisa said, her voice filled with tears. "I told them, 'Daddy's probably not going to come back.'"

Her thoughts were whirling, Lisa said: "I would think, 'Okay, Andrew has soccer practice.' Then I'd think, 'Who's going to walk Kelsey down the aisle when she gets married?"

Suddenly, she had to plan a memorial, "all of those things you never think you'll have to think about."

Her husband's memorial at Pikes Beach, their grief, were all very public, not private, Lisa said. "It was always on the news, it was everywhere. The first Thanksgiving, the first Christmas."

Of her 9/11 baby, Sean, Lisa said she is filled with pride. "He's a scrapper. He definitely stands up for himself — and anyone else who needs it."

9/11 baby marks 25 years, and a lifetime, without his father

Speaking with Patch about 25 years without his father, Sean reflected on life as a 9/11 baby; he grew up without a father figure, he said.

"It was always the smallest things that hit the most," he said. "A friend saying, 'My dad this,' or 'My dad that.' It's kind of like everyone had a head start and I'm just catching up. I'm still learning lessons now that I would have learned 5, 10 years ago if I'd had a dad."

He added that everyone else in his family was able to meet his father. "I was the only one who wasn't able to. I only know my dad through stories and pictures. I'm still learning who my dad was."

That's why Sean said he cherishes trips to his father's firehouse on 9/11, where his dad's colleagues share photos, stories and rich memories. "Stories and pictures are all how I know my dad," he said. "I always treasure the stories I heard from my mother, brothers and sister — and the members of my dad's firehouse."

Sean said he's still learing all the time about his father, seeing new photos and hearing new stories. "I love them so much, and there's nothing I love more than to hear those stories and think about the person he was. I can't wait to meet him someday."

Sean does not believe everyone in his generation has a grasp of the magnitude of what 9/11 meant. Some, he said, "treat it as a joke, or have theories — but none have stepped foot into the museum."

While he wasn't born yet when the attacks took place, Sean said he feels as though "the world was good, but is slowly going in reverse — especially with so many who have 9/11-related cancers passing away. More and more, people forget that day and what has happened."

Despite the daunting challenges, Sean said his mother raised her children with fierce devotion.

"My mom is the strongest, and, honestly, the most badass person I know," he said. "I have no idea how she raised, not just three kids after 9/11, but gave birth after that and raised me, too!"

His mother, Sean said, "is the strongest and funniest person I know. And I'm proud to say, my best friend."

Living for 25 years without his father — but with a family tightly knit with love — Sean said: "The way I was raised made me the person I am. When 9/11 happened, none of the firemen going in wanted to be heroes or look for titles — they just wanted to help others. Every day, I only want to help others and put other people before me."

If he were to offer a message on 9/11, Sean said: "The most important thing I would say, as simple as it may be, is just to never really forget. Year after year, people say it's X anniversary — then move on and forget."

With reports of so many 9/11-related cancers and other illnesses year after year, Sean said, "They need to realize this is stil going on."

And to those of his own generation, Sean said: "Educate yourself before speaking on a subject. So many people of my generation will spend hours online just scrolling aimlessly, instead of learning, learning about your city, the state — the day that changed the world. Go into the National September 11 Memorial & Museum — every first Sunday is free. Go make a day of it. Go to O'Hara's next door, get a burger, a beer — ask for the book behind the counter that is full of first responders' stories from that day, and the clean-up after."

What matters most, Sean said, is to keep his father's legacy of giving vibrant and strong. "Do your job and care for those around you," he said. "When 9/11 happened, and everyone ran out, they went in, cool-headed, into the storm to help others."

Andrew added that while it's surreal that 25 years have passed, he remembers everything about 9/11, the day the world went dark.

Andrew remembers his father's memorial service on the beach and the fire trucks that picked them up from their house. So many people turned out to honor him, Andrew said. "It was wonderful to see all those people," he said.

Reflecting on his father, Andrew recalls trips to Hershey Park, and to Cooperstown, a few weeks before 9/11. "He was my Little League coach and was always there to see my games."

Andrew said his father visited his classroom in full uniform, showing his classmates his helmet and letting them try on his boots — those boots are still kept in his father's locker at his firehouse, just where they had always been.

Andrew also remembers the little things that meant everything, days spent at the beach and in the pool. "He was an amazing person," he said. "The example he set was very powerful."

Today, Lisa Jordan is a breeder/caretaker for the Guide Dog Foundation in Smithtown, caring for a black Lab named Stormy who was picked to join the breeding colony.

"Hopefully, she'll be able to support many visually impaired people and injured war veterans with pups," she said.

All four Jordan children are young adults, working hard at their careers and giving back, imbued with the values imparted by both their mother and father, whose presence is true and rich in their lives.

But always, they say, the memory of the years lost to 9/11 echo. The empty chair at Thanksgiving, the Christmases and weddings and family moments shared with their father that were forever stolen on that fateful day.

If dreams were reality and he could see his father just one more time, Sean said he'd "just hug him."

"I miss him," Andrew said.