Today marks twelve years since that Tuesday morning. The morning so many American's lost their lives at the hand of senseless violence. The morning so many other American's stepped up to make a difference; to dig through the rubble, to offer aid, to work through the tears. The morning we all gasped, held our breathe, came together as a nation, and prayed. The morning we will always remember and never forget.
For a moment, it felt strange to send my husband off in an airplane, on this anniversary. But then it hit me, we cannot live in fear. If the enemy were given a foothold, would he not gain ground? No, I hold my head high as an American, thankful for the men and women who have fought, are fighting, and will continue to fight for our freedom. Our freedom to live without fear.
I remember what happened. I'll never forget the news coming through the airwaves at our office and my friend's grandmother bringing by a small black and white television for us to stay updated. I remember the fear that surged through me, wondering what was next. I remember the agony of the multiple attacks and contemplating how many planes could possibly be compromised. I remember hoping that my cousin and his new bride were already home from their honeymoon. But I also remember something else...
I remember fire-fighters, police, EMTs, military, and regular good old folks stepping up, marching in, and being there. I remember prayers lifted, compassion given, doors opened, and love displayed. On that day, we all bled red, white, and blue. We came together to pray for those injured, to mourn with hurting families, and rejoice with each morsel of good news emerging from ground zero. We stood strong, together.
May we never forget the lives that were lost. Such a horrific loss; the greatest tragedy in my personal lifetime. But may we also remember the spirit of the American people coming together in a time of despair. And may that spirit be one that stays with us, day in and day out for all the years to come.
Always Remember. Never Forget.