Ten years ago, the lives of many changed. America changed. Even the world changed.
As a journalist, I’ve read many stories, accounts and transcripts of Sept. 11, 2001. Perhaps one of the most poignant things I’ve read as of late came from People magazine, of all places. The pop-culture, entertainment magazine did a spread on 10 children yet to be born on 9/11/01. Each of their fathers were killed in the terrorist attacks. Some worked in the Pentagon, some were firefighters and police officers and others worked in the Twin Towers.
Each child and mother shared a glimpse into life 10 years later. I remember a couple of thoughts specifically. One was from a mother who said she was standing over the changing table about six months after 9/11, and she was crying. Her older child walked up and asked if she was ever going to stop crying. She said she realized in that moment she had to do something different.
Another thought that stuck with me came from a child — a girl. She kept two photos close to her, one was an ultrasound photo of her in her mother’s womb and the other was a photo of her father holding her two older sisters — one of which was a newborn. Her mother said she held on to the photo of her father with her sisters because she imagined the baby was herself. She carried the ultrasound photo because she said it was the only photograph her father ever saw of her. Process those memories for a moment.
I can’t fathom what that fateful September day was like for so many thousands of people. I remember stories I read immediately after like the one where a woman was frantic because she couldn’t reach her husband. A stranger walked up to her and said she’d seen her husband and he was fine. The woman asked how and the lady responded she rode the train with them each morning so she knew what he looked like. She had seen him shortly after the attacks, alive and safe.
I remember interviewing a college professor at my school whose mother worked in the first tower. His family hadn’t heard from her, and they didn’t have much hope. She worked above the 80th floor. I remember that interview being one that will live vividly in my memory for the rest of my life. I was a college freshman, and it was the first tough interview I’d conducted. I remember crying when I hung up the phone.
I remember the morning with clarity. I remember the phone call I received and being told to turn on the TV. I remember running through my quad sharing with my suite mates what was happening. I remember tears streaming down my face as I saw the second plane hit in New York. I remember the panic I felt when I couldn’t get a hold of my friend in New York.
I also remember the relief I felt when his mother answered and said she had talked with him and he was fine. I remember the fear and the anxiety. I remember the panic and the terror. I remember realizing life would forever be different, though I didn’t understand how much so.
But now, 10 years later, life is different. I have friends scarred from war in Afghanistan and Iraq. I take extra steps with my diabetes when flying because of security. I look at the American flag with a different awe and respect. I now cry when I hear particular patriotic songs.
Many lives changed on that infamous day, mine included. It didn’t change drastically, and I had no personal connection to anyone affected. But my heart changed. A piece of it was broken forever. As I stood at Ground Zero several years later, I realized nothing could fix that crack in my heart.