During the drive into work this morning, the man on the radio was talking about 9/11, and having forgotten a lot about it. As he played back some sounds from that day, my mind was moved to put down some of my own memories.
Jason was attending a preschool over in Provo at the time, and it was my job to drop him off each morning. As we got into the car and prepared to leave the garage, I turned the radio on. They were talking about a plane that had crashed into the World Trade Center. Lori, Emily and I had been there less than a month before, so my interest was peaked. At that point, it sounded like a bad accident. I went back into the house to tell Lori, then left to drop off Jason. After I had dropped him off I went into the office. News was poring in at that point, and it definitely was a lot more serious than one bad accident.
Of course, the only thing we were talking about was what was happening back east. We struggled to find out any news. Rumors circled. Too many people were trying to stream the regular news services on the internet. Cnn, foxnews, etc. were all unusable - they were too busy. We finally found a feed to the BBC news that was working, and we all watched in disbelief. I don't think there was any work done that day. I don't recall much talking either. We all wanted news, but I think most of all we all wanted to go home. We didn't last more than a few hours in the office. Something about the circumstances made each of us want to huddle up with our families, to hug our children. I think it was just as much for our own comfort as for theirs.
I didn't know what to do or think. I recall watching hours and hours of news. It was addictive. Somehow, I think I felt I had to watch. The images were unbelievable. I just kept thinking about having been there recently.
I remember struggling to find a way to explain this all to our children. How do you explain such violence and hatred? You can't.
We attended a candlelight gathering in our neighborhood. We sang, we cried, we tried to find comfort. Honestly, there was little solace. They say time heals all wounds, but as I have pondered the events of that day, my heart still breaks. I recall it all so vividly. My own conclusion is that we should not forget, that we should not let those memories fade. We need to remember that day. It should serve as a reminder to us, to not become complacent or to lose our vigilance. We should remember all those who died, and do our best to honor their memories.