The story of the 9-11 Pentagon Memorial

9 years, and I still can’t think of this day without tears.

We — you and I — were there, really. It felt as if we were right there, because of TV.

Maybe that’s why the loss still feels so personal, so raw.

I agree with those who say, we must never forget.

Not merely because the job is unfinished and the threat is still real.

But to honor those who died that day, merely for going to work or getting on a plane. Families, little children, excited by the adventure ahead. Husbands. Wives. Mothers. Fathers.

And to honor all those since who have volunteered to pay for our freedom with their lives.

It is only right to pray for the families of those killed on this day 9 years ago. If our grief feels so close to the surface, how must they feel today?

And I hope we can each still remember how good it felt to be united, as a nation, in our outrage at a common enemy, and our heartbreak over a common loss.

No more Progressives or Conservatives, no Republicans or Democrats, no Tea Party screamers…

For that one day, at least, we were all Americans…

Proud of our brave first responders who perished trying to help strangers, and of the passengers on United #93, who fought back before their plane could be used against our Capitol Building, knowing they would die in that struggle…

Ready to link arms with our neighbors in defense of our homeland, to do whatever was asked of us so we could help in the recovery…

Determined not to give in to fear, to share the burden of grief, to feel the pain…

as fellow citizens of the United States of America.

What we were then, we can still be.

We control that, not political parties, or bellowing voices determined to widen the gulf between our commonalities.

As Le Monde declared in a huge headline that next day: NOUS SOMME TOUS AMERICAINS

We are all Americans.

Let us never forget.