A Day of Remembrance and Reflection
September 11th is a date etched into the American psyche. It's a day we pause to remember the lives lost in a tragedy that forever changed the nation. But beyond the grand scale of history, it's also a day of deeply personal memories—a collection of individual moments that shaped how we understand the event. For many of us, those memories are tied to our childhood, to the moments we first saw the unfolding horror on television and the anxieties we felt for loved ones in the city.
I was just a kid in 2001, at the home of Chrystal Tilman and her husband, when we turned on the TV to a sight that was unimaginable. We watched in stunned silence as the towers fell, a massacre that seemed to come from a Hollywood movie, but was horribly, chillingly real. For me, that day was marked by a frantic sense of helplessness. My father worked just two blocks away from the World Trade Center in Manhattan, and for hours, I couldn't get in contact with him. In that moment, the tragedy wasn't a distant news story; it was an immediate, terrifying reality that was threatening my family. Thankfully, he was safe, but the memory of that fear remains.
The aftermath of 9/11 extended far beyond that single day. Years later, at Shaw University, I met Tahj, a guy from New Jersey who was always smiling and seemed so carefree. In my youthful naivete, I assumed he was a "silver-spooned kid," a person who had never faced hardship. It was a shallow and unfair judgment, one that was completely shattered when he revealed that he and his siblings had lost their father that day in the World Trade Center. The news hit me hard. My assumptions crumbled, and I felt a profound sense of humility. I realized that as outsiders, we have no clue what a person has been through. That simple conversation taught me to be more compassionate, to look past the surface and recognize the hidden struggles that people carry with them every day.
This revelation has stayed with me. It’s a powerful reminder that everyone has a story, and that kindness and empathy are far more valuable than snap judgments. The resilience of people like Tahj and his family is a testament to the strength of the human spirit.
Every summer as a child, my dad's mom would take me to Newark, New Jersey. A few years after the clean-up, she made a point of showing me the aftermath of the destruction. She said, "History was destroyed. These were once the tallest buildings in New York City." Standing at that site, where the world had changed, was an emotional experience. The emptiness where the towers once stood was a stark reminder of what had been lost—not just buildings, but lives, dreams, and futures.
Today, as we remember those who were lost, we should also remember the lessons that 9/11 taught us. We should be thankful for every opportunity that comes our way, acknowledging that many people lost their lives while simply working their dream jobs to provide for their families. It's a call to cherish our loved ones, to embrace each day, and to extend grace to those around us. The memories of that day and the lives of those we lost will forever live on, serving as a powerful reminder of our shared humanity and the enduring strength of the American spirit.
I hope this article captures the essence of your memories and reflections. Would you like me to make any changes or additions to this draft?
