Count down to 60-- even as the hour grows late

I will be honest. Today,  I have avoided a lot of the things people have said and posted about the date. No, it is not because I want to forget. It is because I can not forget. My mind, that forgets names, forgets birthdays, forgets bills ever so often, will not allow me to forget that day. I wasn't in New York, I was nowhere near any of the areas where this happened. Not physically anyway.

It was, as those old enough to remember know, all over the news. Everywhere you turned, there it was. Over and over again it played on the television. Article after article was written about any and every aspect of what happened. Over and over you saw the planes, you saw the towers as they fell, you saw those who jumped or fell from the windows, you saw the fear in the eyes of those who were running, trying in vain to escape the cloud of smoke that enveloped them. I saw it whether my eyes were open or closed. I saw it during the day and in my nightmares. There is no way I could ever forget.

You saw the broken hearts, the tears streaming down the faces of those who finally gave in to the truth, their loved ones were not coming home. Not that night, not ever. You saw the children of the fallen as they said their goodbyes.

You could not travel anywhere without seeing the flags flying, proudly almost defiantly. The churches were filled. Everyone was discussing it. Even as they still had difficulties believing, that this, really happened.

Was it as it was claimed to be, a terrorist attack? Was it something our very own government created or in the least allowed? There will always be claims and counter claims. There will always be those who argue that it was one way or the other. I'm not discussing that here or in any of the other postings I have done.

My memories, are of the people.

The people who innocently and responsibly went in to work on that day as they normally would. They went to work at the World Trade Center. They went to work at the police department. They went in to work at the Fire Departments. What ever their job was, they were there.

The people who were on the planes involved. The ones simply traveling from point A to point B.

The people who witnessed it all first hand, and who have it fully embedded into the minds.

My thoughts are for the first responders who, when the first plane flew into the Trade Center, they rushed in to save anyone and everyone they could. They thought first of their responsibility to the public they served and not for themselves. Even after the second plane hit, even as the fires grew worse and danger more imminent, they kept going, kept looking for more, kept leading more out of the buildings.

My thoughts are for those who helped the people get off of the island. Those who helped by ferrying them across even though they had no idea what exactly was going on and if by being out on the water they were just another target.

My thoughts are for those who diligently searched the rubble for survivors.

Every time I see a flag. Every time I see a member of our military. Every time I see a police officer, member of the fire department or EMTs, I remember. I remember, and I whisper a prayer of thanks for those who sacrifice daily to serve. For those who rush in when everyone else is rushing out. I say a pray for them for safety from harm. I say a pray for comfort for the families, who even fifteen years later still miss those lost.

As this day or memorials and memories comes to a close. I have not forgotten. I will not forget. I do not want to forget, for that would be a dishonor to those lost, and those who bravely rushed in. For those who rush in every day.

No matter what or who caused it. No matter what one believes of why. What matters is the who. Who we lost, who we were and who we become. Who rushed in then, and who rushes in now. The day will end, the memories will not.