Remembering 9/11

As a kid, I remember my parents and grandparents saying, “I remember where I was when…”

Where they were when they heard that John F. Kennedy or Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated or that we landed on the moon—these monumental, life-changing events that shaped the trajectory of our nation and culture.

I have a couple of my own.

I distinctly remember watching Princess Diana’s funeral in tears and watching the backward boots of the riderless horse in President Reagan’s procession.

I remember sitting in kindergarten or first grade when the Challenger exploded.

But, I distinctly, clearly, vividly remember exactly where I was, what I was doing, and what happened in the following 24 hours from the moment the planes hit the Twin Towers on Sept. 11.

I was a senior in college at Miami University in Southern Ohio. My roommate (and best friend of more than 30 years, I might add) were sharing an apartment, and I had just finished my breakfast, watched the last segment of the Today Show I could get away with, and yelled, “see ya later!” as I ran out the door to catch a bus to get to main campus for my 9 a.m. class.

I found out (after the fact) that I had actually left the apartment less than two minutes before the first tower was hit.

I walked through the Student Center, and there it was.

Plastered on the TV with more and more young college kids gathering around trying to find out what in the world was happening because, at that point, no one knew it was a terrorist attack. Class at 9 a.m. and we find out the second tower is hit, and class is dismissed. Eventually all classes would be cancelled.

My roommate and I sat for two straight days watching an endless news feed. We lit candles. We cried and cried watching dusty, dirty, exhausted firefighters searching with no reprieve. We watched parents and other family members tell their stories of loss. Phone recordings played of airplane passengers saying their final I love you’s.

I lost a sorority sister who was on one of the planes. I remember a neighbor had a parent in one of the towers and couldn’t reach them on the phone for two entire days. I remember their panic and frenzied pacing of the hallways and the flood of relieved tears when they finally heard, “I’m okay. I’m safe.”

I remember it all in such crystal-clear clarity.

A moment in time that completely changed everything we knew about life within the United States, and ironically, a moment in time that would forever change my life. I married a soldier who enlisted because of 9/11 while he was still in college, and those deployments during the Global War on Terror shaped our lives and now our children’s lives, too.

Our kids don’t know much about 9/11 yet (they’re still a little too young to understand exactly what happened and why), but before we PCS’d years ago from Fort Drum, we drove down to New York City and visited the 9/11 Memorial. I’d been there 10 years prior with my now-husband (then-boyfriend) when it was still a hole in the ground filled with rubble and debris. Fenced off by chain-link and sadness.

It was powerful to go back and see what beauty was made out of destruction.

We didn’t go in the museum because, again, our children were too young for it to be appropriate for them at that time. But the memorial itself was tranquility. In one of the noisiest cities on the planet, and from where I stood, I didn’t hear one horn, one car engine, not even one person speaking. It was solemn. Peaceful. Truly a moving experience.

Just because we don’t share many of the horrific details of Sept. 11 with our kids doesn’t mean we let them forget that 9/11 is now Patriot’s Day, and we honor what that means to our family.

We bake cookies or take meals to firefighters, police officers, and usually the MPs at the gate. We color pictures or make cards to remind them that we don’t forget how tirelessly, selflessly, and passionately they give of themselves for others.

Thank you. Thank you to the men and women who serve. Thank you to the spouses and children who stand by their side and offer their loved one daily as they wake up in the morning to give to others.

I pray that we never forget.

Print Friendly, PDF & Email
Retired Blogger

Retired Blogger

Army Wife Network is blessed with many military spouses who share their journey through writing in our Experience blog category. As we PCS in our military journey, bloggers too sometimes move on. Their content and contributions are still valued and resourceful. Those posts are reassigned under "Retired Bloggers" in order to allow them to remain available as content for our AWN fans.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.