“Grief changes shape, but it never ends.” — Keanu Reeves
“Even the smallest act of service, the simple act of kindness, is a way to honor those we lost, a way to reclaim that spirit of unity that followed 9/11.” — President Barack Obama
“Five years from the date of the attack that changed our world, we’ve come back to remember the valor of those we lost — those who innocently went to work that day and the brave souls that went in after them. We have also come to be ever mindful of the courage of those who grieve for them, and the light that still lives in their hearts.” — Rudolph Giuliani
Seventeen years. In some ways, it feels like a lifetime ago. In some ways, it feels like something that happened far in the past. In another life. In some ways, it’s hard to imagine a world before September 11th, 2001.
And in some ways, it still feels like it happened yesterday. The day that the Earth stood still.
That fateful Tuesday morning was clear, bright, and full of possibility. It was, from what I remember, a warm day. I was still living at home with my parents (having graduated from high school the year prior and currently working retail). I remember coming out of my room and the television was on. My parents sat on the couch, stunned, silent, frozen. The images on the screen looked like something out of a Hollywood blockbuster. They kept showing the first plane hit the North Tower. There was an explosion, followed by flames and the blackest smoke that I had ever seen. I stood there, mesmerized. The newscasters, every time that the camera went back to them, had this…stunned look on their face. They were in just as much shock as the rest of us. There was no way that this could possibly be happening.
In this horrific loop was the next unthinkable event: one of the planes was getting incredibly close to the South Tower. There was nothing anyone could do. It slammed into the landmark and exploded.
Since I live on the West Coast, the events that were unfolding happened while I was still asleep. By the time that I had woken up, both towers had been struck. When I woke up, the world had already changed forever.
And then, at 9:59 Eastern Standard Time, the World Trade Center’s South Tower collapsed. This was happening in real time — yet it is still one of the most surreal moments of my life. It was the first time that I had seen people die — and it happened on national television. We all gasped. There was no way that this could be happening. A behemoth of a structure fell as if nothing more than a deck of cards. I knew, we all knew, that anyone who had been in that building was instantly dead.
Everything froze, in that moment. Life stopped. The Earth stood still and ceased to exist as one of the most notable features of the Manhattan skyline collapsed upon itself and folded into the ground. Where there was one a monument made of steel and concrete. A complex so large that it had its own zip code. Gone. In an instant. Taking the lives of everyone who was unfortunate enough to still be inside when it fell.
And, almost a half an hour later, the North Tower fell. Collapsed in the exact same way that the South Tower fell. And, once again, anyone still inside perished.
Not only had the Twin Towers fallen, but that day the Pentagon was struck by one of the hijacked airliners. The brave souls on Flight 93, the last aircraft that had been hijacked, banded together and took down their captors before crashing and perishing.
For the first time in aviation history, at 9:42, the FAA grounded all flights over and bound over the continental United States. Over the next two and a half hours, over three thousand commercial flights and over a thousand private jets were guided to land in airports all over the US and Canada. For the first and only time in my life, there wasn’t a single plane overhead. The skies were truly empty.
The rest of the day was a blur. To be honest, the rest of that month was a blur. A haze of surreal shock that gripped us. The footage of the attacks played 24 hours a day on television. It was the topic on everyone’s tongue.
Yet, we as a nation, woke up. We as a nation started paying attention to our fellow neighbors once again. There was such an out-pour of blood donations that people were turned away. Volunteers came from all over the world to Big Apple to assist with the recovery of possible survivors. Through the ashes, we rose. We bonded to our fellow man. We hurt, cried, and mourned as one. And even in our desire to seek retribution, we also sought out understanding as to what could have lead up to this. We opened up our eyes to the world once more.
In the seventeen years that have come and gone, so much has changed. Gone is the unity that we had reclaimed that day. Forgotten are the lessons that we should have learned.
On the days that followed September 11th, we were reminded of how great our country can be. When, regardless of color, creed, or any of the other labels that we use to forget that we’re all of the same species; we banded together as one.
As we think back to that day, not too long ago, we need to ask ourselves this: what will it take for us to regain that unity, once again? What will it take for us to embrace those all around us? What is it going to take for us to set aside our differences, once and for all? What is it going to take?
