September 11, 2001.
What were you doing?
We all remember the moments of that day. The day we cried and the deafening silence that came after.
The skies were blue and quiet for three long days, and so were we as we tried to digest what we saw over and over on our television screens.
What happened that day? We will never know the absolute truth. We all have our theories and opinions. Were we attacked from the outside or from within? Maybe both, perhaps. Someone knows. And most assuredly, God does.
But the fact remains many many innocent people died at the hands of evil. And we still have our questions of why, and of how could this happen here in America.
A young New York firefighter perished that day. His wife found out two days later they were expecting their third child. She had a son and named him John after his daddy. I believe this hero was a distant cousin of mine as we bear the same unique last name. My mom wore a bracelet engraved with his name, found his mother, and they kept in touch for awhile. My mom eventually sent the bracelet to the family, a gift for the son that John didn’t know he had.
Regardless if we personally knew anyone who perished, or of the heroes who worked endlessly to search for the living buried within the ruble, a part of each of us died that day.
We must never forget the love we had for each other in the days that followed. It’s sad to think a tragedy is what it takes to unite us as a nation. We have the capability to love one another. We proved it that day and for a short while after.
9-11. A day that scarred our country forever and showed us our vulnerability. May we continue to learn from that tragedy and may it never be erased from our history.