I have watched, read, and shared so many of the stories from 9/11, and for those of us who were here, it remains a day we will never forget.
We all have a story—one memory embedded in our minds that we carry with us and share with others, especially with those who were too young to remember or who were not even born yet. It is difficult for them to process 9/11 in the same way those of us who were here can. Those who were on the scene, watching television, making phone calls, trying to get home, trying to get their children home, or simply trying to understand what was happening in the moments after the first plane hit.
One of the conversations I had this year, on the 25th anniversary, was, “How could this possibly have happened?”
We live in the largest, safest, and strongest country in the world, and yet, right under our noses, we not only lost thousands of lives that day—we were blindsided into realizing that something we believed could never happen here, to us, in our country, actually could.
From the moment we understood what had happened, each of us realized that we were as vulnerable as everyone else in the world. We learned that we needed to be present, connected, and watchful—not only over the people in our own country, but over one another and the world around us.
We learned not to take anything for granted.
We also learned something that some of us already knew how to do, and others perhaps not as much: how to help others in every capacity possible.
From the first responders at Ground Zero, to the people walking the streets of New York trying to find safety, to the other crash sites, to every person across the country simply trying to manage life from that moment forward—we all became part of the same experience.
We watched. We cried. We sat in disbelief. And we bent over backwards to be kinder, to comfort one another, and to mentally digest what we were all experiencing.
It mattered not what color your skin was, what religion you practiced, what your income was, what neighborhood you lived in, or what state you called home. For that moment, we were all 100% Americans, along with people around the world who were experiencing this tragedy with us.
It may have been one of the only times when every single human being seemed to be on the exact same page.
It was turmoil for all of us. There was no way to make calls without cell service. We were trying to get our children home to us while managing businesses, families, and everyday life in a world that had suddenly changed.
My husband and I made a conscious decision after our son got home safely to drive over to the restaurant we owned at the time. We intended to give everyone the rest of the day off so they could go home and be with their families.
To our surprise, when we arrived, our employees had already spoken about this among themselves. They had all called home to make sure their families were safe, and they had chosen to stay open.
Their thought was that people were going to be looking for somewhere to go—to be together, to talk, to connect, and simply to be human.
We all agreed.
And, to our surprise, later that afternoon, people began coming in to do exactly that.
They hugged. They cried. We watched television together, searching for updates and trying to understand what was happening. For a few hours, our restaurant became more than a business. It became a place where people could gather, find comfort, and simply be together.
After spending a few hours with our staff, we took our son and went over to our local church.
We were not members, and we did not attend there. I am Jewish. But it was the closest place for us to go to help process what had happened.
Once again, we were surprised.
We arrived and were immediately connected with other local families who were feeling the same way. We were welcomed with open arms. We spent time hugging, talking, sharing, and simply being with people who understood that none of us really knew what to do with the emotions we were carrying.
Eventually, we went home for the evening and once again watched the news, searching for updates from New York, and the other spots that planes had targeted that day—hoping to learn who had survived, trying to understand what had actually happened, and attempting to process the events of the day.
And here we are, 25 years later.
Still processing.
Still mourning the victims.
Still remembering those who were lost.
Still praying and hoping that something like this will never happen again.
I often question, as we all do, the state of our world at this moment. We have learned so much, and yet there is still so much division, suffering, and uncertainty.
So, as I do every year, I ask for the same thing:
Peace on Earth.
May we never forget what happened on 9/11.
May we never forget the lives that were lost.
May we never forget the courage of those who ran toward danger while everyone else was running away.
May we never forget the kindness of strangers, the comfort of community, and the way we came together when we needed one another most.
And most importantly, may we never forget what it felt like when we were all simply human beings—standing together, caring for one another, and realizing just how much we truly need each other.
Never forget.