In many ways, 9/11 was the defining moment of my life.
I still remember, vividly, the moment it happened. I was 17 years old, a senior in high school, sitting in an algebra class. For some reason, I was sitting sideways in my desk, maybe because it was easier to talk to my friend that way, but mid-conversation, an announcement came on over the intercom: a plane had struck one of the Twin Towers, and all teachers needed to turn the television on. At the moment, we were all shocked, but not scared. We all assumed it was a horrible accident… a tragedy, but an accident. I think we imagined a small plane, something a new pilot was flying, and even wondered how in the world someone could run into the World Trade Center. How did you miss two giant towers in the sky?
Then we all watched, live, as the second tower was hit. And everything changed.
The rest of the day is a blur; there was a lot of crying. I remember losing it in the girls’ locker room, although I don’t remember why I was there; much of our schedule was erased that day, and I remember everyone in the school being sent to the gym — for safety reasons, I guess. I remember the next few days, with the horror seemingly never ending. The phone calls from the planes, the videos of people jumping from the flames to their deaths.
I didn’t know anyone that died on 9/11. But it still had an indelible impact on the rest of my life.
It was because of 9/11 that my husband joined the Marine Corps. He went on four deployments — two to Iraq, two to Afghanistan. It’s because of 9/11 that he was injured in an IED blast. It’s because of 9/11 that we still battle the scars of war, 10 years after he got out. The seemingly-constant drumbeat of people we knew from the military who lost their lives to suicide is always heartbreaking, but it’s no longer shocking. It’s become normal, because after 9/11, our nation sent my generation to war and then forgot about them once they came home.
What would the world be like today, had 9/11 never happened? It’s something I can’t even picture. But I do know that there will never be a time that it doesn’t break my heart. Last year, I was able to take a weekend trip to New York City and, for the first time, see the 9/11 Memorial where the towers used to stand. I was able to talk with someone who had been there when it happened, and we cried together. Years earlier, my husband and I saw the Pentagon memorial on a trip to Washington, D.C. and cried looking at the names.
The world is moving on. Time is erasing the memory, and one day, I know — as much as it pains me — that for future generations, 9/11 will be as insignificant at Pearl Harbor is to generations now. But for me, that day will always live in my mind. The staggering losses, the needless deaths, the heartbreaking heroism of the first responders and our military. I will never forget 9/11, nor the 2,996 people who died that day.
