As they read to the letter D, I, on my third Kleenex, started thinking about the eight additional years that I have lived, the same eight years stolen from all those innocent people. I look at the young teenage girl reading her Dad's name and giving a tearful, "we miss you so much" and it angers me he hasn't been able to see her off to school in the last eight years.
Or the Mother, well into her sixties now, choking on her son's name saying that it "feels like only yesterday". The pain must be unimaginable for these families. Her son should be alive right now.
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I was lucky enough to have gotten married two weeks before 9/11 and our guests stayed at The World Trade Center Marriot that had been destroyed the day of the attacks. I have the most beautiful memory of us on top of Tribeca Rooftop, my veil blowing in the wind with the Twin Towers as a back drop.
I was lucky enough to have a husband that went to serve in Afghanistan in 2002 to fight for our country.
I was lucky enough to have adopted a dog a year later that has given me unconditional love ever since.
I was lucky enough to have given birth in 2004 to a baby girl and now expecting another child.
Point? I am grateful.
I wish the 3,000 victims who died on 9/11 could have the same thing. I wish they could walk down aisles, hug their loved ones good bye before a long trip, hold their baby that weighs 6 lbs. and 7 ounces and ruffle the head of an always-happy-to-see-you dog as he knocks you to the ground with kisses.
Eight years later, I don't know what's being felt around the country, let alone, the world. Nor do I care.
Im just grateful that in this incredible city, we haven't forgotten.
God bless all those who died and their families.
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