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I have to start with saying that until September 11th, I never understood the folks who had experienced the attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7th, 1941 saying that they remember exactly where they were when they heard the news, remembered their feelings on that day. The one thing that so many of them said that to them, it hadn’t happened ‘x’ years ago, but ‘yesterday’.
On September 12th, 2001, I came to understand what they meant. In the years since That Awful Day I know exactly what they meant when they said it didn’t happen all those years ago. To me That Awful Day happened yesterday.
All these years later when I see the Twin Towers on an old TV show or movie I catch my breath. I flash back to That Awful Day, remembering exactly where I was when I first heard of a plane hitting the North Tower and the subsequent report of another plane hitting the South Tower. I remember watching TV as the towers fell. I remember seeing the report of a plane hitting the Pentagon and another crashing in the town of Shanksville, Pennsylvania. I remember my pager going off again and again and again as I was called in to our state’s Office of Emergency Management. (I was a staff member back then.) I remember the faces of the people in my workplace and the Emergency Management office.
It was yesterday.
After 25 years It. Still. Hurts.
I remember what it looked like before That Awful Day, having visited the North Tower about 5 years prior to that day to visit with a friend of mine and to pick up some equipment he’d obtained for one of the organizations I belonged to at the time. I remember what it looked like after it had been struck by the two airliners. And I remember what Ground Zero Looked like two days after, having been there as part of an emergency response team.
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I have visited the 9/11 Ground Zero memorial in New York. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do when I got there, what I was going to feel being there again after all those years. I saw the footprints of the North and South Towers, the metal panels surrounding those footprints bearing the names of all of those who died there on That Awful Day. I read every name on those panels. Every name.
I couldn’t make myself go down into the museum. I could barely move. I could barely breathe. Then someone spoke to me.
“Sir, are you alright?”
I turned my head and saw a young women standing to one side, looking concerned.
I could barely choke out my reply.
“No. No I’m not...”and that’s when I broke down. I don’t know how long I stood there, tears running down my face. That young woman came over to me and hugged me, just holding on while my grief overwhelmed me.
Once I regained some semblance of control of myself, she let me go and told me that she witnessed something like this almost every day, people coming to Ground Zero and grieving, each in their own way. She asked if I would be alright and I told her I would. I thanked her and left.
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Over the years we have heard the stories of the heroes, both individuals and groups, who did amazing things to help the people they didn’t know under daunting circumstances. But it is those stories that have been a silver lining on an otherwise horrific and horrifying day. It is something that when the memories and feelings start weighing me down, I watch this story, one that exemplifies the selflessness of ordinary people doing extraordinary things. It allows me to see the good things that happened on That Awful Day.