Remembering 9/11

Today is a day for remembering. On a personal level, a day to remember my Grandma Marian, who returned to live with Heavenly Father on September 11, 1992, just shy of her 70th birthday. She was a beautiful person, inside and out. We love and miss her.

On a national level, it is a day to remember the events of September 11, 2001. Our thoughts and prayers go out to those who lost loved ones on 9/11.

Today on my way to work, I listened to the radio and someone calling in to the radio show said that he is a history teacher, and that every year on 9/11 he shows his students a video about the events that took place on that day. He teaches middle school, and pointed out that the kids who are in his classes now were 5 yrs old in 2001, too young to really remember much of that day. I thought about how important it is to make sure we as a nation never forget - never forget what happened on 9/11 and never forget the outpouring of generosity that followed. Part of that is making sure that our children (when they are old enough) are aware and never forget either.

Seven years ago, much like today, I turned on the radio on my way to work. I heard disjointed reports of an airplane, a building, and fire. My first thought was that it was some kind of fictional story being played out on the radio. I changed the station, and heard the same thing - and the pieces started to come together. They were reporting that an airplane had crashed into a building. I listened in stunned silence as the reporters speculated on what could have caused the crash. Instrument malfunction, pilot passed out, could it be possible that this had been a deliberate act?

I worked in downtown Dallas at the time, and when I arrived at the office I remember looking up at the building and thinking about the people who were stuck in the WTC. When I got to work, most of us pulled up the news on the internet. When they reported that a second plane had crashed into the adjacent building, confusion and sadness turned to alarm. One crash might be an accident, but two? It seemed impossible, but our nation was under attack. From that point, things happened fast. I called my husband to see if he was watching the news. He wasn't, but he turned it on. Next came news that two other planes had lost communications, then one of the "missing" planes crashed into the Pentagon. They speculated that the 4th plane might be headed for Chicago or some other city, and at that point I started packing up. I wasn't going to wait around to see if Dallas was going to be a target, especially sitting about 1/3 of the way up a rather tall building in the downtown area. I wasn't the only one, several of us were headed out when word came that they were closing down the building.

I drove home as fast as possible, wanting nothing more than to get home to my family. Cuddlebug and Bearhug were only 3 months old. I spent the rest of the day holding them and watching in horror with my husband as the events unfolded on the news. I thought of how the America my sons would grow up in would be different from the one I had grown up in, if only because events like these would not only be possible, but actual, and just that morning such events had been unfathomable.

Today as I watched a memorial on tv, I looked at my twins, now 7 yrs old, and my 3 yr old baby running around the house. They were oblivious to the tv or the tears in my eyes. I thought about how someday, dh and I will need to talk to them about what happened that day, so they will understand the significance of it. Someday, but not today...

Here is a portrait taken when Cuddlebug and Bearhug were 4 months old, one month after 9/11. We didn't intend to have their picture done that day, we were just walking around the mall to get out of the house. A young photographer approached us and asked if she could do a photo session with the boys, she was new and needed to build up her experience. We agreed, and I'm so glad because I absolutely love this picture: