“Where were you on September 11th, 2001?”
It’s a question I have heard asked countless times over the last two plus decades. Everyone recalls where they were on that fateful day when they heard the news about the terrorist attacks in NYC, Shanksville, PA and the Pentagon. I’m no different, and I wrote about my story in my book: Where Was God? An NYPD first responder’s search for answers following the terror attack of September 11th 2001.
But for many of us, the memories of 9/11 don’t begin on that day. There is an emotional lead up that culminates in 9/10; the last day before our world was forever and irrevocably changed. I’m sure if I had the chance to speak with a veteran who was at Pearl Harbor on December 6th, 1941, they would share the same story. Remembering the last time that things were ever ‘normal.’
I remember September 10th.
I spent the evening watching Monday Night Football, sitting in bed feeling frustrated, because I had to get up early the next morning to cover the NYC primary election. I was glued to the game, watching my beloved NY Giants eventually lose to the Denver Broncos.
That’s my last memory of normal.
At that time I had been a cop for over 15 years. I thought I had seen just about everything, but a few hours after waking up, I would learn just how wrong I was.
For the 23 members of the service we lost on 9/11, they never enjoyed another normal day. Twenty-Two years later, many of us have been forced to embrace a new normal, as we struggle with health issues due to exposure of toxins at Ground Zero. The scourge of cancer almost loses its sting when you realize that it is most likely not a question of if, but when.
You reflect a lot on the fact that 9/11 wasn’t a singular terrorist attack, but a generational one that continues to claim lives two decades later. It’s difficult to embrace normal when you get constant notifications alerting you that we’ve lost another first responder to a 9/11 illness.
Tomorrow politicians and pundits will dust off the tired old mantra: Never Forget, but the reality is we are forgotten; only remembered one day a year and then put back into the closest until the next anniversary. The majority of them have never had to struggle with having a normal day. The constant political fight to fund the 9/11 Health Program proves just how quickly they forget and move on.
Today I reflect on what life was like before that day and tomorrow I will mourn those we lost; killed in the initial attack or its lingering aftermath. Tomorrow will be about ‘remembering the heroes,’ but knowing that the door will close again on September 12th for another year.
