It’s always the hardest knowing this day would come again, just as it has every year. There is no escaping it. The weight of it. The ache it brings. The reminder of the loss we endured, both as individuals and as a collective.

So many lives were directly impacted on this day. And even for those who weren’t there, the trauma reached far and wide through television screens, through stories told by others, through the silence that followed, and through the cries that echoed across the world.

For me, this day took someone I grew up with. A sweet friend from elementary school. She was my penpal after my family moved following our sixth-grade graduation. Though distance separated us, our bond remained. Among the small group of us who stayed connected from those early years, her absence will always be deeply felt. That circle of childhood friends still holds a special place in my heart, and some of my strongest friendships remain rooted in those innocent days.

Twenty-four years ago, the world changed. A tragedy unfolded that would shape our collective memory forever. And in those first moments, through the dust, the fear, and the chaos, something else emerged: UNITY and LOVE.

For a moment, the divisions of race, religion, and politics faded into the background. We came together not as strangers, not as separate nations, but as one people. We became love. We held space for one another. We prayed as one. We cried for lives taken far too soon. We grieved the broken families, the empty offices that no longer stand, the missing names never to return home. And we still do. I miss that world. We are all aching for our current beings, here, and now. 

We were all affected. We still are and will continue to be. 

And though time moves on, healing is still a process.

This day will never be forgotten. And neither will the people we lost.

Let us honor them by continuing to love one another, by showing up with empathy, and by remembering that, despite everything, we found light in the darkest of times.