Remembering September 11th

Last night, my daughter had to interview me for her history class about where I was on September 11th. She asked questions about what happened, and how the events of 9/11 impacted my life, the U.S., and the world. Going through everything, it was strange to see how vividly I could remember and feel the emotions. 

Stranger still was that this was the first time I’d told many of the details to my daughter. She was an infant on 9/11, and for all these years, I have been afraid that if I told her too much, if I let her know what it felt like to witness what was happening on that day - I was afraid it would be too much for her to take. Although she’s older and so mature, it was still hard to talk about such immense violence, but I did let her know that it was not all sadness and pain. 

I told her about heros, like Todd Beamer on the flight that went down in Pennsylvania, and how there were countless others that showed great courage and compassion in responding to what was happening. 

And when she asked the thing I remembered most, what immediately came to mind was the great light that came out of people that day and in the days that followed. I remember a video journalism piece I saw on tv that week; the journalist rode around New York City on his bike and showed what people were doing to help others – get to safety, get medical attention, get in touch with loved ones - people just giving whatever was needed. 

There was so much love shining so brightly against that backdrop of horrific darkness. That moved me so deeply, and I suppose I remember it most because it was seeing that love that helped me move forward.   

Such a mix of sadness, compassion, love, and so many other emotions I can’t even name. . . all in remembering 9/11.