Doesn't it fill you fresh once again with disbelief and bottomless sorrow? But pride too, for heroism beyond comprehension.
I was in the car on the way to work when the first plane hit. Vaguely described as simply "a plane" I was visualizing a small plane and some unfortunate person staging a dramatic suicide. Then the utter shock when the second plane hit. I remember an overwhelming, desperate desire to retrieve the kids from school despite being told not to. I remember sharing tears over the phone with a work contact in NYC. I remember making my regular, preplanned visit to my dear grandmother who was in the final stages of cancer, traveling the 1.5 hr drive over deserted highways. I remember being posed the question from kids in my religion class "How could God let something like this happen?" and my simply telling them that God was crying too. Weren't we all? What do you remember from that fateful day?