I seem to find myself writing about 9/11 every year in September as if I didn't know the anniversary was going to come forth and pass me by all over again.
Now, 15 years after the most terrible day in this country, here we are again, remembering the lives lost, and thanking the first responders that saved so many strangers that day.
9/11 is a tough day in my house because my father was a first responder, and my mother is a dedicated and life-long New Yorker with a passion for life, justice, and for her husband's well-being.
Still, the pain of that day resides forever in his heart, and of course in hers, and I grew up knowing that 9/11 was more than just a date on the calendar.
My family was just one of millions of families that were thrown into a black hole of terror and helplessness on that beautiful September day.
As for me, I watched 9/11 happen through the eyes of a 5-year-old child. I sat in school just like millions of other American children did that day, and felt some kind of satisfaction that we were being dismissed from school early, even though I didn't know why.
As that day went on, I saw tears fall and people clasping their hands over their mouths thinking, "how could this be?", and "those poor people."
I didn't know it then, but we were all watching hell rise from beneath our feet. We were all seeing the deepest and darkest forms of the nightmares that none of us would ever have the courage to speak about in person.
Now that 15 years have passed since our darkest day, we have to step back and think about what 9/11 has left us with.
While we are left with everlasting sadness and fear, I cannot help but think that we are stronger. We, as a nation, are more unified and empathetic to the suffering of others- even if it is just for one single day in September.
Though the dust and smoke have cleared, the memories have not, and so we continue to and will always remember.
The towers fell, and our hearts fell with them.
Our first responders ran into and around those buildings with prayers, hope, and more fear than any man or woman should feel.
After 15 years or 1,500 years, we will still feel the same pain that overtook the world on that fateful day, and that's okay. It's ok to mourn those lives lost, and respect those that did their very best to prevent hell from taking over the world we knew.
However, we cannot let our pain and unanswered questions create hatred within our hearts.
It's so easy to pin the blame on someone who doesn't entirely deserve it when our hearts are hurting.
Americans, as well as Muslims, lost something on that day.
Americans lost their faith, hope, and sense of safety on that day.
Muslims lost their ability to live in peace, without a look of fear being shown their way, or even worse, bombs in the places they once felt safe in. They too are mourning peace.
No number of years will ever take our pain away completely, even though many people would argue that time heals all wounds.
This wound, cut so deep into our minds, won't heal if we cannot learn to love and search for peace again.
15 years later, we must learn to unite as one nation again, with those lives lost in the back of our minds always.
We've built over the rubble and dried tears that once that spilled over the ground at the World Trade Center site. We've proven that perseverance and pride can overcome any terrorist.
In fact, proof of our perseverance now stands 1,776 feet in the air, overlooking all of Manhattan.
But, the memories of those people who perished in the towers, at the Pentagon, and on Flight 93 will never fade away for as long as we all shall live. That much is certain.
On this 15th anniversary of the worst day in American history, let us all step back and remember those who lost their lives unknowingly, and let us thank endlessly those men and women who risked their own lives trying to stop the most horrific form of evil there ever was.
Let us go forth in search of peace with the hope that one day, those people who lost their lives will look down on us and be proud of what we have become.
