A quarter century since 9/11: Remembering what we would rather forget

This week marks the 25th anniversary of that tragic Tuesday that took our breath away while robbing nearly 3,000 innocent souls of their lives. Twenty-five years is a big chunk of history. I don’t know what it represents for you, but for me that’s a third of my life. And yet what happened a quarter century ago seems like only yesterday.

Like you, I can easily remember where I was when I heard the tragic news. Our family was living in Illinois and I was driving to my office at a Christian publishing company in suburban Chicago while listening to the classical music station. That was my daily routine. This day was different. Carl Grapentine, one of the announcers at WFMT, broke into the scheduled programming. He reported that a plane that had flown into one of the World Trade Center towers. The extent of the damage was not yet known.

By the time I got to work a half hour later, more details of the unfolding disaster were coming into focus. What later would be categorized as a terrorist attack included jetliners flying into both of the twin towers in Lower Manhattan.

Our oldest daughter Kristin, who had just begun her freshman year at Hope College in Holland, Michigan, called home quite worried about her safety and ours. She indicated that she was gathering for a prayer vigil with classmates. It was the first college campus to do so and as a result People magazine covered that outdoor prayer gathering as part of their cover story.

Since this was a time before most kids had cellphones, our middle daughter waited in line for the payphone at our local high school to call home. When my wife asked if she wanted a ride home, Allison declined the offer indicating she wanted to be with friends for emotional support.

Lauren, our youngest daughter, was unaware of what was going on. The elementary school chose to shield students from the news so that parents would be the first to convey the events of the day. My wife walked to school with our next-door-neighbor to escort Lauren and her best friend home where the television coverage remained on non-stop.

At work and at home we, and the rest of our nervous nation, attempted to swallow the collective lump in our throats. What we witnessed was gut-wrenching. And then we learned of two other planes involved in the attack on America. One crashed into the Pentagon killing 184. Another plane piloted by the terrorists planned to take out either the White House or Capitol Building in Washington but was diverted from its target when passengers commandeered the cockpit. Sadly, the outcome resulted in a deadly crash in rural Pennsylvania and the loss of 40 lives on United Flight 93.

Even though it’s been a quarter century, the fear and uncertainty that defined that day is easily recalled. So, too, are the victims who perished. At Ground Zero, the annual reading of the names of those who died has become a sacred way of marking a day we can’t afford to forget. That somber ceremony pays homage to those who anticipated having dinner with their families following work but never made it home.

Even those of us not directly affected by the events in New York City, Washington D.C. and Shanksville were bruised by the brutality of what we witnessed vicariously. In 25 years those bruises have healed, but the nightmarish memories remain. And I for one am somewhat grateful.

In spite of the unexpected invasion that exposed our vulnerability to terrorism, there was good news amid the bad. There was a renewed sense of faith, patriotism and unity. In many ways Sept. 11th and the days following brought out the best in who we are as Americans.

We found ourselves on our knees in spontaneous prayer meetings calling out for Divine help. We locked arms with colleagues and neighbors whose political persuasions were at odds with our own. We celebrated the readiness and importance of first responders who risk their lives to preserve ours. We grieved with the brokenhearted.

This week is a time to recall our personal memories of that fateful day and prayerfully acknowledge our dependence on a Higher Power and one another.

• The Rev. Greg Asimakoupoulos who writes about faith and family.