ASHES TO ASHES

ASHES TO ASHES

By JOHN LEHMANN

October 29, 2001 -- With trembling hands, Rolando Paz yesterday cradled the wooden urn close to his cheek and said: "This is my wife."
To Paz and thousands of other New Yorkers, a little urn filled with ashes from ground zero suddenly became their most precious possession.

"This will go wherever I go - it will help, just a little, to fill the emptiness," Paz, 56, told The Post after being presented with the urn on behalf of the city in a private ceremony at Pier 94 on the West Side.

Paz, a fine-art restorer, and his wife, Patrice, 51, a director at Aon's insurance-risk-services division, were regarded by their friends as being truly in love.

They met in Rome while on separate holidays eight years ago, fell in love almost instantly and married at The Boat House in Central Park eight months later.

Every day, at 11 a.m. and 3 p.m., they would speak on the telephone. Every evening, Paz would come to her office on the 92nd floor of the south tower of the World Trade Center and wait until she finished work.

"We would always go home together - we were always together," he said. "It was just us - our love was so compact.

"Now, my other half is not there. We owned a big house together, filled with things we loved. She would always sleep on my left, and now you wake up and there is nothing."

For the first time since Sept. 11, Paz, of Midwood, Brooklyn, visited the ruins of the Twin Towers yesterday, to take part in a massive memorial service for relatives and friends of the victims. His sister and brother-in-law went with him.

"I was feeling terror in my stomach before [going]. I feared that it would be too much. But it was very soothing," he said. "It was saying farewell."

Paz's wife, who worked in the insurance business for 25 years, has been remembered among her colleagues as a savior.

When the first plane crashed into the neighboring tower, she immediately took charge, calmly directing her team to leave.

But she wouldn't join her colleagues until she had tracked down one of her colleagues, Jennifer Dorsey, who was five-months pregnant.

By the time the second plane crashed below their office, Patrice Paz's co-workers had already descended to the 40th floor.

But neither she nor Dorsey were seen again. Patrice's remains were identified using dental records Sept. 29.

"She would have felt it was her responsibility [to stay behind to help]. She was so dedicated and so talented," Rolando Paz said.

Along with the urn, etched with the fateful date 09-11-01, mourners also received an American flag and a collection of soft toys, including Mickey Mouse.

The brown urn was tucked into a blue velvet pouch and presented in a charcoal-colored box.

The Pazes didn't have any children together, so the soft toys will be distributed among their nephews and nieces.

The urn will be displayed in Paz's bedroom, next to the ashes of the remains of her body.

For the thousands whose loved ones' bodies haven't been recovered, the urn is all they are left with.

"For me, the urn is my wife, but it is also everyone else - all those young, intelligent people working for the future, working to progress," Paz said.