09/11/2026
I think of the day before the world changed, when it was just another morning.
I think of those who woke up, got dressed and kissed their families goodbye for the very last time. Those who went to work expecting to come home.Those who boarded a plane for a holiday, a meeting, to see somebody they loved, or simply to get from one place to another.
I think of the pilots and flight attendants who began an ordinary working day. I think of the passengers who called home. Those who left messages. Those who said I love you one final time and those you couldn’t. I think of those inside the buildings. Those who helped colleagues and complete strangers find a way out. Those who held doors, carried people, offered reassurance and refused to leave somebody behind.
I think the firefighters, police officers, paramedics and other emergency responders who ran towards something everyone else was desperately trying to escape. The dispatchers answering calls they would never forget. The medical teams waiting for casualties. I think of the search and rescue teams who worked through the devastation in the days that followed and the incredible search dogs who asked for nothing in return.
The children who lost parents.The parents who lost children. The husbands, wives, partners, siblings and friends whose lives became divided forever into before and after.I think of those who survived and carried that day with them. Nearly 25 years have passed, but there are mornings that history never allows us to forget. One of this world’s darkest days.
But amongst the fear, strangers carried strangers. People stayed when they could have run.
The whole world felt the weight of what happened that day. But when the world was confronted with unimaginable hate, ordinary people answered again and again with extraordinary love.
I think of every life lost, every life changed, every family left with an empty chair, and every person and animal who ran towards those who needed them.
So when you wake up, love like it’s your last moment
September 11th, 2001 🤍
