America's worst yet greatest day

It's hard to forget as I sit here that five years ago I was doing the same thing on Sept. 10 ... watching TV, avoiding homework, dreading starting another week. I was probably alone doing crafts since George rarely stayed at my apartment the night before a PT morning.
Never would I have seen myself here five years later ... married: yes, career: probably, by waiting beside the phone praying for it to ring while my husband sits in the sandy heat of another Afghanistan morning.
I am reminded everyday of the 3,400 plus lives that would be lost the next morning and the thousands of military heroes whose lives have been lost since then fighting a war on terror. Yes, I may have seen myself waiting for my husband, but not waiting for him to return from Afghanistan, fighting a war to give others the freedoms that so many here take for granted.
In the past few weeks we have constantly been reminded that we are facing the fifth anniversary of one of America's worst tragedies that also brought forth a swelling of patriotic pride that can rival any in our history. Unfortuantely once the anger and astonishment wore off and lives resumed a noramal pace, so did the support for the fight against terror. We as a country dutifully remember the lives lost in those early morning hours on anniversaries and when we visit the memorial sites but there are those of us who live with the memory imprinted on our hearts everyday as we kiss our loved ones goodbye and send them off to war with the hope and prayer that they will come home to us.
I wish I could explain the overwhelming fear that engulfs me when there is a knock at the door, but then I have to explain the childlike excitement in my heart when the phone rings and I hear his voice on the other end of the line.
For me the ash covered faces filled with desperation and fear as they ran from the falling towers, tears in the eyes of the families looking for their loved ones and the bravery of the firefighters and peace officers who gave their lives in hopes of saving others that get me through the lonely nights. Their families deserve to know their deaths were not in vain.
For George and I this life was a choice, but those who lost that day never had a choice. I had the chance to tell him what I wanted to say before he left, their families didn't.
Everyday is a gift. It should be treasured. Tell your loved ones how you feel, hold your children close. Remember how it felt that morning to watch the tragedy unfold, but don't forget the days that follow as Americans everywhere came together to stand. United we stood then and united we stand again.


Sept. 11 Timeline: Remembing the Legacy