I had made a conscious decision not to post about it today. But then, this morning over breakfast…
“Mom, is it 9-11?”
Pause. “Yes. Why?”
Panic. He wasn’t born yet. How much have we talked about? How much has he heard?
“That means the new app comes out in 8 days!”
And do you know what I felt? In all raw honesty: relief. Relief that my 9-year-old son doesn’t remember what I remember. Relief that he didn’t see what I saw. Relief that his heart doesn’t automatically stop every single time the fighter jets fly low and fast over our house.
Because that pain? That’s my pain, not his. That’s the world we adults live in, not theirs.
Always remember. Never forget. To each person, the same words, but different meanings.
To me… always remember those dear souls, friends and family, who lost their lives to something we will never fully understand and honoring them by living each day out loud.
To never forget that it’s our job to teach our children to rise above and be better than we are. To rise above the revenge hate and fear mongering and gross assumptions.
To love each other better. To help each other more. To laugh every chance we get and to make others laugh even more.
We honor those that lost their lives, by honoring each other with every new sunrise and sunset that we are blessed to witness.
Always remember that this is our world and our legacy which will soon be theirs; never forget to use that pain that will always live somewhere deep inside of us — the kind of pain we hope they never have to know — to teach our children to be better than we were and are.
I fully believe we have the power to leave the world a better place. It starts with you, and me, and him, and her. Together.