Every year on this day, the world seems heavy, the air still.
I walked outside this morning and the ground was wet from a light morning rain. The sun was peeking through low clouds in thick bands of light. The world was quiet.
It’s those moments when you feel God is watching. The feeling of sacredness is palpable. The weight of the day can be felt when you move.
I did not personally lose anyone that day, 12 years ago. I was not in the streets below the towers. I was not covered in ash. I was not there.
But every year, I cry for those lost. My heart breaks again for those left behind. My mind is overwhelmed by the images and video. By the loving phone calls from crashing planes. By the screams of terrified people no different than you or I.
I refuse to let this day pass without remembering these things. No matter how much I cry or hurt, the victims deceased and alive, deserve to be remembered. They deserve to be thought of, prayed for and respected.
My family will always remember.
My child will be taught of this day.
I will never forget those lost, those left behind and those who fought after 9/11.