“No Day Shall Erase You from the Memory of Time.”

I was watching the morning news as I got ready for work. My first appointment was a little later than normal, so I was still at home. There was breaking news when the first plane hit the North Tower of the World Trade Center–and confusion began to unfold. I grabbed the phone to call a dear friend I knew who worked near the Empire State Building to check on him. He was unaware of what was happening, and I remember shouting…as I narrated to him the crashing of the second plane into the other tower. I was frozen in thought and emotion as I watched the buildings eventually fall into ruin.

Like many parents, I chose to go and get our children, who were attending an elementary school in Spring at the time. One of my fears was something happening to the refineries or the Houston area that would start an evacuation which would prevent me from getting to them. I-45 separated our then-home in Magnolia and their school.  As with most, I had a dire need to just get them in my arms and safely home. I remember crawling up in bed, one on each side of me, and holding on tightly. I must’ve checked on them a hundred times throughout the night, watching them peacefully sleeping, innocent of all the horrific acts earlier in the day.

For days, the news was nonstop with additional details and photos of the sheer devastation left behind.  Our children were confused and unable to comprehend what had actually transpired. Of course, they couldn’t understand. How could they? I sure couldn’t. The number of lives lost continued to climb. The buildings and vehicles were left looking like a movie one might see…yet this wasn’t staged or make believe.  The Pentagon was attacked by another plane turned weapon, leaving behind more loss.  The phrase “Let’s Roll” became familiar last words a husband spoke to his wife from his plane, just before he and other passengers gathered together and overtook the hijackers. That plane failed and was taken down in an empty field.  The trail of great loss and sacrifice grew. Our world was forever changed.

Fast forward to 2024. Bags were packed, and our trip to NYC began. I was excited to show my husband all New York had to offer. We were off on our grand adventure with our dear friends, Wes and Karen.  The three of us had all been to the Big Apple and were excited to take my country boy to the city! We hit all the tourist spots, from a ferry boat ride to see the Statue of Liberty, to a carriage ride through Central Park–with so many spectacular sights, Broadway shows, meals, and people packed in between.

There was one thing high on my to-do list…and that was to visit the National September 11th Memorial and Museum. I wasn’t sure about what to expect, yet I was certain this was something I wanted to do. Something I needed to do. Something I had to do.

When we walked up to the site, the first thing we saw was One World Trade Center. It’s a magnificent building. The Tower of Freedom hovers over you, standing 104 stories tall.  It occupies a square that is almost identical to the footprints of the original Twin Towers.  The Tower of Freedom is actually the same height as the Twin Towers – 1,368 ft (when its mast is added, it makes it 1,776 ft–said to be a nod to the year of the signing of the Declaration of Independence). At night, there is a beam of light projected vertically from the spine that shines over 1,000 ft. above for all to see.

As we entered the museum itself, I found myself in that familiar frozen state I experienced the day the terror took place. My thoughts bounced from that dark day in 2001 to my current place in time.  It was sobering.

Actual stories were told throughout with narratives, memorabilia, and pictures–before, during, and after. Some of the hardest to view for me were the pictures of people fleeing in their state of confusion and horror. It was all over their faces. On some small level, and only for a moment, I felt the smallest bit of what I could only imagine they must have felt. I allowed myself to go there…in their shoes…only for a moment, as it was all I could take.

People meandered slowly, whispering to one another and pointing out various things. I wondered what they were thinking and feeling. Where were they when 9-11 happened?  As we continued, I saw individuals gathered around various spots.  The crumbled steel beams recovered from the former towers stood alone. There were stairs, known as Survivor Stairs, at the end of a ramp.  This staircase was an unobstructed escape route for people trying to evacuate.

In Memorial Hall, there was an enormous wall made from watercolor paintings depicting various shades of sky blue from that morning. Understanding that the remains of many victims are forever buried just behind the wall, the wall I felt like I could reach out and touch, was almost unbearable. The words of the wall read, “No Day Shall Erase You from the Memory of Time.” Around the Virgil quote are 2,983 individual paper panels, the number of lives lost on 9/11 and in the 1993 World Trade Center bombing. Every part of this memorial was purposeful. Meaningful. Thoughtful. Respectful. Some would say, spiritual.

There’s a photo gallery of each life lost that forms a looping hallway. I found these mesmerizing in a very eerie way. In the center is a room where you can sit as you listen to recordings of relatives sharing a snippet about their loved one. We left feeling an even deeper connection.

In Foundation Hall, you will find the Last Column, the final piece of World Trade Center steel. The 36-foot steel column is covered with signatures, notes, and mementos from top to bottom. It may be a symbol of loss to many, yet I saw a symbol of strength and resilience that rose from the ashes.

Ladder Company 3 is said to have suffered some of the greatest number of casualties in the FDNY response that day. Their 11 responders were killed inside the North Tower upon its collapse. They were last seen on the 40th floor. The mighty firetruck is one more symbol of the devastation from that day.  It looked like a wadded up, discarded piece of paper.

Just outside the museum, we paused at the 9/11 Reflecting Pools. They are a permanent place of remembrance, with the names of each of the victims inscribed on bronze parapets surrounding the waterfalls.  Each pool is 1 acre in size and was placed in the footprints of the two towers. Their sounds drown out the noise around you, allowing you to reflect the absence, and embrace a peaceful time of remembrance.

Truly one of the most surreal things I’ve ever experienced, I believe everyone should have the opportunity to visit our National September 11th Memorial and Museum.

Afterward, I was on the phone with our daughter, sharing with her what I’d just experienced–but the words weren’t doing it justice. They weren’t “enough”.  The words escaped me…and that is a rare occurrence. She could hear the pain and sadness in my voice and asked me why I would do that to myself–why I would go to that museum, knowing it would upset me so. Without hesitation, I recall my immediate response. “Respect.  I went to show my respect. It’s the least I could do.”  Lives were lost. Families were forever altered. Our country was changed infinitely. I walked on hallowed ground. There were tears. There are still tears…as I continue to reflect…with respect.

The National September 11 Memorial & Museum
www.911memorial.org