I had planned a different bookish blog post today, but then the realization of the date stopped me cold in my tracks.
I will never forget the day I worked in my high school JROTC office and watched as the news switched over. As the images of the planes crashed into the twin buildings streamed. Not many were in the office that day. Just a few of us. The horrific nature of what we were witnessing was so unreal. I turned to my Major and asked what was happening. As if what I saw didn’t explain it enough.
I can’t say for sure I remember his words, but I remember what it translated to me.
We were under attack. We were going to War.
For anyone from a Military family, background, service field of any kind, this instills a searing fear into your soul. That your loved one or ones will depart to fight, defend, save, and protect. This fear stayed with me from that day until my loved one, thankfully, came back home.
I can never assume to know the depth of sorrow for those that have lost a loved one this day, the days that followed, the war that followed, persists, but I will never forget.
I will never forget those who braved to save others giving their own lives in return.
I will never forget the heartache etched into the faces of those escaping, the phone calls made and recorded.
I will never forget the sacrifice made to protect and stop the terrorists trying to attempt more attacks.
I will never forget the day we mourned as one nation.
I will never forget the unity birthed.
I will never forget those still fighting to live and survive from the trauma they endured that day.
I will never forget.