22-year-old Lynne Morris loved to laugh, but even more than that, she lived to love. She loved many and many loved her. She had a gift of looking beyond one's outward appearance and seeing what truly mattered, which was what was on the inside.
She worked hard on her tan each summer and during spring break sprees, but according to her mother, Pat, that was Lynne's only glimmer of vanity. "She always worried about everyone else more than herself," said her older sister, Chrissy, "and she told me that it sometimes got her in trouble."
Lynne lived her whole life in Monroe, New York, and grew from a shy little girl who would hardly leave her mother's side to an extremely outgoing young woman who struck up conversations with strangers wherever she went. To her friends, Lynne was a lighthouse — an ever-standing, ever-glowing presence that guided the way when times were tough. "She was a true companion, a partner-in-crime, a pal who I could always turn to," recalled Jaime Ulatowski, one of Lynne's many friends. "I would not be nearly as strong as I am today if it wasn't for Lynne."
Lynne vacillated between wanting to teach and hankering after a business career with a more hectic pace, which was what took her to Cantor Fitzgerald on the 101st floor of the World Trade Center's North Tower straight out of college. She worked logging trades into the company computers, but her ultimate goal was to rise up and make those trades herself.
Just months before losing her life on September 11th, Lynne rekindled her relationship with her college boyfriend, and they were on the verge of announcing their engagement.
When Lynne's mother was sitting on the deck outside of her home just over a month after 9/11, holding her daughter's just-issued death certificate, the grief seemed too much to bear. Then, on that warm October day, a butterfly landed on her face. And it dawned on her. There were pictures of butterflies all over Lynne's room — on the wall mirror, on the picture frames, even on the last Mother's Day card Lynne sent her. "So every time I see a butterfly in person or even on a little one's shirt, I think of Lynne," her mother said, "and I thank her for all she is to us."