For several years I have told myself that I would not cry on this day. I want to try and move past the pain of September 11th, 2001 and find comfort and solace in the fact that our country is safe and out of harms way. I know that is not guaranteed, but it helps me to travel around this world, take my kids on subways in large cities and allows me conversations with strangers of all races and nationalities in my town.
But every year, I watch the memorials held in NYC, Pennsylvania and Washington D.C., and as if it was yesterday, that sadness, shock and pain washes over me. The sound of the beacons from firefighters trapped in the rubble are fresh in my mind. The silence that pierced this country when no planes were flying in our skies. The feeling of helplessness watching images over and over on the television, wishing I could be at Ground Zero to help out somehow.
I will cry every year, I know this to be true. Not because I am scared or unsure of our country's future safety, but because I can not imagine the pain those families are feeling who lost loved one on that day. And I cry for those who have lost loved ones in all the days that preceded and followed Sept 11th who serve my country to keep me safe.