Remembering 11 Years Ago

I'm sure most of the readers of this blog will remember where they were 11 years ago.  It was a day many of us will never be able to forget.  For some, it may be a day they try and forget... only for the ability to move on while for others it is their mission to always remember.

11 Years ago I sat in my BCS Class at my computer.  I walked into the coffee shop and saw the news.  A plane?  The WTC?  How is that possible?  I immediately thought it must be one of those helicopter tours gone awry.  I turned on my computer and ignored my teachers constant lecturing of this and that and read what actually was happening... at that very moment.  As a class we watched in horror as the events played on the news in the cafe & on our screens.  One classmates father was flying to NY from Boston that day.  She couldn't help the tears that ran down her cheeks, yet our teacher did not dismiss us.  She said that we'd go on... and she did.  But the students of that class were mentally checked out - we were reading feverishly for news of what was happening... until we got up and left.  (Yes this teacher was beyong crazy!)

Our next class... and those after did not occur.  Teachers couldn't get to school from their Manhattan homes, people needed to contact family members, and people needed to mourn.  I walked into my dorm room and called home.  My Uncle was missing.  He worked for the FDNY... driving a wrecker.  After the 1st tower fell, many many vehicles were disabled ... many fire trucks among them.  He had to remove them to allow other responders to get to the victims.  That day I worried and I cried not knowing if he was near the building as it fell. 

Through the ashes of that day, something interesting happened.  I made my 1st friends in college.  It only took me an entire year.  I received hugs, cell phones to borrow, support, and ... on that day none of our doors closed.  They were left open.  If only to show that we would be there for each other no matter how difficult that may be.

We ran to the top floor and looked out the window to peer at the dust and smoke that replaced the space on the skyline that the towers once stood.

Later that night my grandma called... My Uncle called his girlfriend who called my grandma.  He was alive.  He was safe.  He was tired & sweaty... but he would work on until there was no more for him to do. 

Friends lost friends & family that day.  We prayed for them.

My family... we were still physically whole... but we still prayed for us.

I still pray for those affected by 9/11.  Not just the ones lost, but not forgotten.  Not just NY & her inhabitants.... but also those in Boston whose Mothers, Fathers & Children were on that plane.  Also for those in this country that felt our pain even though they could do little to help it.  Even for those whose compassion brought them to their knees and prayed ... prayed for strangers they will never know and never meet.  I pray for all those people.  I pray that we always remember the solidarity that came from that horrific day.  I pray that those who lost their lives did not lose them for nothing.  That through their loss we can build a foundation of love and support that we have for fellow man... not just fellow American. 

So yes - on 9/11... I pray.