At the time my Mom and I were living together, since she just moved to Phoenix after leaving my ex-step-father.  She came in my room and told me to be careful today.  There was an accident in New York and she thought it was “weird”.  This was before anyone knew that this was an attack on us.  I kinda thought she was a little overprotective and crazy to be honest…why should I be careful when there was an “accident” in New York and I was in Phoenix?

I turned on the TV and found out that it was possibly more than an accident and then as that was being reported, I saw the second plane go into the second tower.  It was the craziest, saddest thing I have ever seen.  I was in pure disbelief, why would planes go into buildings on purpose?

Then shortly after the Pentagon was attacked is when I realized that life as we all knew it was gone…we were no longer safe in out homeland which was unbelievable.  Thinking about this now throws me back into that moment, into that odd realization.  I am so lucky that I live in a country that is for the most part completely safe, even to this day.  My heart goes out to people in war stricken lands, that have to live with this kind of fear and disbelief on a daily basis.

Days after, I went through this strange depression.  My heart just ached for the families and loved ones that lost people that day.  I couldn’t believe that someone died because they went to work.  I still can’t believe that someone, that a culture can hate us so much that they have no problem just killing us.  I think, if they only knew Americans as individuals and not our government, would they still hate us?  I hope the answer to that question is no.  Because deep down we are all the same…we all want trust, honesty, respect and love.  If they could just realize that, would they stop hating?

We recently went to Ground Zero while we were in NYC.  After eight years, little has changed.  When you are there, you just get transported back in time, back to watching the towers collapse, back to seeing innocent people run for their lives, back to seeing people looking for their people.  It is still so shocking and sad.

Today, Blake is seven months old.  He makes me think how life does move forward.  He reminds me of all the pregnant women who lost their husbands that day and had their babies and now those babies are almost eight themselves.  He reminds me that happiness does eventually come back, that love does heal to a point.  He has helped heal my own pain from losing my baby Sydney and I hope that those babies helped heal the pain of those women losing their husbands.

I’m so sorry to all of you suffering still to this day.  I’m sorry to those who lost their lives.  I will never forget where I was eight years ago and I will never forget the heroes and the innocent and their families.  I won’t forget…