9/11/01
I remember Peter Jennings voice saying the second tower was falling. The sorrow, the hopelessness.
I remember trying to explain everything to my children.
I remember empty, clear blue skies.
I remember the very first image I saw, early in the morning, and how the scale of what was happening totally escaped me.
I remember not being able to get the words out over the phone to make V understand what was happening.
I remember people clustered together, gathered around televisions and radios, leaning on each other for answers that weren’t there, and for comfort that was.
I remember that there was politics and blame and anger, sides to take and arguments to make and discussion that would never end. But today isn’t the day to remember that part.
Today is the day to remember wives and husbands, mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, friends and loved ones. It’s the day to remember heroes, both standing and fallen. It’s the day to remember ordinary people on the most extraordinary day of their lives. It’s the day to remember people with so much to live for on the last day of their lives.
It’s a day to pay respect.
