As the world prepares to observe the 23rd anniversary of the September 11 attacks, emotions and memories are expected to resurface through various ceremonies and tributes.
Reflecting on this day brings back silent thoughts and vivid mental images that are deeply etched in my heart and mind – experiences not shaped by media or events, but by my personal encounter. On that day, I was present, feeling both helpless and vulnerable.
I had recently been promoted to master sergeant and was stationed as the superintendent of the Army’s Office of the Chief of Public Affairs Northeast in Manhattan, only a few miles from what is now known as Ground Zero.
On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was en route to a meeting scheduled for 9:30 a.m. on the 26th floor of Tower I. I intended to arrive early to grab a bite to eat. Just blocks from my destination, I heard a loud explosion and saw black smoke billowing from one of the towers. Initially, I thought it was a tragic accident, as planes frequently flew nearby during their approach to LaGuardia Airport.
However, moments later, I witnessed another plane circle the towers, seemingly honing in on the target. It crashed into the other tower, confirming my worst fears that this was no accident.
Though I remained blocks away during the subsequent collapse, debris scattered far and wide. The flames fueled by jet fuel consumed everything in their immediate vicinity, causing those around me to flee for their lives. The destruction was immense and disorienting.
I was struck by debris, and while the physical pain was significant, it was overshadowed by the emotional turmoil I felt amidst the chaos. A deep numbness settled in when I learned that the Pentagon had also been hit. Just five days prior, I had been stationed there in the area where the plane crashed.
Now, twenty-three years later, while the memory of 9/11 is indelibly marked in my life, I strive not to let it overshadow my existence. I understand that life is fleeting; we only have this moment. Often, people are encouraged to “live for today,” as we cannot change the past, nor can we predict the future. Even so, 9/11 remains a defining part of my yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
I know ceremonies serve as a form of healing for many, offering closure to their grief. For me, however, the recollection of 9/11 opens up new and unending chapters filled with unanswered questions, each beginning with “Why?”
Why did this happen?
Why did we lose so many innocent lives?
Why was I among the living?
In my mind, silent words echo, accompanied by invisible memories that I will never forget. There are no words or images that can capture the devastation I experienced on that day.
I don’t rely on news reports to convey what transpired. I was there — witnessing the buildings adorned with flyers of missing individuals and observing Chelsea Piers, where I had enjoyed basketball games, transformed into a makeshift morgue. I was present, feeling both silent and invisible.
The pain from that day lingers, tears flow for those lost, and guilt arises from being thankful for my own survival while so many perished. The numbness within me continues; the emotional, spiritual, and physical scars persist but remain silent and unseen.
However, some positives emerged from this tragic event. New Yorkers grew closer; expressions of love became more common, and there’s a greater appreciation for those who serve. On a personal level, I aim to embrace joy in life, understanding that tomorrow is never guaranteed. Many lives were irrevocably changed by the events of 9/11.
Outwardly, I may appear unchanged, perhaps more grateful. The scars from my injuries and a devastated suit feel insignificant in comparison to the larger devastation around me. Over the years, the deeper scars have remained, silent and invisible.
I was in New York City on September 11, 2001. Today, I express gratitude for being in Arizona on September 11, 2024.
As many reflect on their experiences from 23 years ago, I choose not to dwell on that day. Instead, I focus on understanding my thoughts and feelings… silent and invisible.