09/11/2026
25 years.
I was 12 years old and it was a school day - but for some reason, I slept in. That literally never happened. My mom was notoriously punctual, and skipping school was absolutely not an option in our house.
I woke up to the sound of my mother crying.
I came downstairs to find the television on and smoke pouring from a building on the news. Before I could even ask what was happening, the second plane hit.
I watched it live.
I didn't understand terrorism, geopolitics or what the World Trade Center was about to become to an entire generation... But I knew something had changed.
My mom didn't answer my questions as she hurried me upstairs to get dressed, and took me to school - where I walked into gym class to find the lights dimmed, a tiny television sitting on a three-tiered cart in the middle of the room, and an entire room of people sitting in deadly silence.
My mom volunteered with the Red Cross for my entire life. Her being gone for weeks wasn't unusual. But after September 11th, 2001 - she was gone for months.
Years later, I learned that a family friend was supposed to be on one of the planes.
Years after that, I learned something else:
My mother had spent part of that day wandering New York City in a haze, lost and numb, on a day when she was supposed to be helping others - until another friend finally found her.
In 2014, I finally went to New York. The 9/11 Memorial wasn't quite open yet but we visited the reflection pools. My heart jolted when I saw it:
"Deanna Lynn Galente and her unborn child."
I cried for her. For her family.
I cried for all 2,977 souls listed.
In 2023, I was finally able to visit the 9/11 Memorial and Museum - it was bone-chilling. Beautiful. Tragic. Human. And incredibly well done.
25 years.
25 years since nearly 3,000 people didn't go home.
25 years of families carrying empty chairs and unanswered questions.
25 years of first responders, military members, volunteers, medical professionals, and countless others carrying the weight of what happened.
25 years of people who served, some of whom ultimately gave their lives.
Maybe I don't have a profound lesson to offer - maybe, I just want to genuinely remember.
The people.
The families.
The responders.
The volunteers.
The stories we know.
The stories we'll never know.
And today, I want each of you to make room for the people who are still carrying it - and to remember it's okay to make room for whatever YOU are carrying.
Because 25 years later, we remember - but we try so hard to forget, too.
