By all accounts, he was smart, charming and well liked. After graduation, Brennan returned to Long Island, New York, to start a career in sales. He was good at that too, of course.

On Tuesday afternoon, his wife, Barbara, remembered the blind date that changed everything.

“I was a dental hygienist, and one of my patients was a lawyer who thought I would like to meet Frank. He was a member of Rockville Links golf course and so was Frank,” she said, seemingly smiling through the phone. “So we set up a date and the four of us went to dinner — he and his wife, and me and Frank. And that’s how I met Frank.”

For the next five years, the couple went to dinner many times. They played golf and held hands. They went for walks and went to the beach. Eventually, as if a final puzzle piece snapped into place, they fell in love.

Frank proposed and Barbara accepted. She was 35. He was 38. They were married for 13 years.

“We did a lot of entertaining in those days because that was Frank’s business. We enjoyed our customers. We’d go out to eat and go to plays and travel with them. Frank loved entertaining,” Brennan said. “We did a lot of that. It was so much fun. And I’ve made lifelong friends from those days.”

Frank was a senior vice president and limited partner at Cantor Fitzgerald on 9/11. Barbara still calls him the love of her life — the man who made her smile, the man who made her laugh with the jokes only they shared.

“He wasn’t big on Valentine’s Day, but he used to send me roses for no reason all the time,” she said, laughing at the sweet irony.

Rockville Links was often their second home. It was a chance to spend time together and make memories that would comfort her, even after all these years.

“Frank was a great golfer. We played a lot of golf because golf was good for business,” she said. “But he never gave me advice when we played. We used to joke the best advice you could give anyone, ever: Don’t tell your wife what to do on the golf course.”

These days, Barbara calls New Hampshire home. She moved there 12 years ago to live close to those lifelong friends she and Frank made on Long Island.

New Hampshire has become her sanctuary. The lakes, the golf courses, the mountains, the company of friends, it makes life easier, especially on 9/11. But never exclusively on 9/11.

After 25 years, the grief still comes in surprising waves for Barbara Brennan. Some waves last longer than others and hit harder than others. Others pass more quickly, but sting just the same.

"I'm not a churchgoer, but I am religious. I do believe in God, and life after death, and all the reasons we were put here on this Earth,” Brennan said. “One of those reasons is to learn how to love one another and to forgive one another.

“And that can be the hardest lesson. It’s hard to think of someone that you’re angry at — or did something to you — and finding it in your heart to forgive them,” she said. “It’s a very humbling experience to forgive someone. But at the same time, the best thing for us to do is forgive one another.”

Shortly after 9/11, Brennan was driving her car on Long Island. Suddenly, she could smell Frank’s cigar and her mother’s perfume. The signs have never stopped. She looks for them every day.

Frank’s birthday is Sept. 25, two weeks after the 9/11 anniversary. The year before he died, Barbara threw him a surprise 50th birthday party.

“I’m so happy I did that,” she said. “We had such a good time.”

On Friday, after a flag-raising ceremony on the Quad, a solemn procession will make its way to the Pat Abbate ’58 Alumni House and Gardens.

While the bagpipes cut through the air and the white lilies open their hearts, the university will remember Frank H. Brennan ’72, James "Chris" Cappers ’92 and Timothy C. Kelly ’85 and parent Joseph Mascali, P '02, P '05, P '14.

Always.