Yeah, I know.
No one is ever going to forget what day this is.
I don’t think we should, either.
I can’t think of this day three years ago and not have the mental image of people trapped in those buildings. I can’t think of their horror and not feel incredibly sad. I can’t think of the firefighters who went in—most possibly knowing they might not come out—and not feel overwhelmed. I can’t think about my friend Deb, whose brother was in the first tower hit, and not feel my heart breaking for her. I don’t cry often, but when I think about this day 3 years ago, and everything that goes along with it, I get a huge lump in my throat and fight back a few tears.
I’m already hearing people moan and mutter things like “get over it already.” How? How is it so easy to just “get over” something so overwhelmingly horrifying? September 11, 2001, was like the nation getting collectively, involuntarily, screwed. You don’t just get over that. You deal with it, but you don’t get over it. You go about the act of living your life, and as well an as happily as you can, as normally as you can, but you don’t get over it.
And while you don’t get over it, you don’t have to shroud yourself in the misery of too many memories to count. You don’t have to be an emotional whipping boy to the specter of this day 3 years ago. You don’t have to give in to the anger over the horror. You don’t have to spend the day feeling abjectly miserable. You don’t have to do a lot of things.
You just have to remember.