Most of this year’s college graduates were born in 2003—two years after the tragic attacks of 9/11, when terrorists hijacked planes and murdered thousands of innocent souls in New York City, at the Pentagon, and in a quiet field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania.
Nearly 3,000 lives were stolen that day.
And the toll did not stop there. According to the World Trade Center Health Program, nearly 50,000 first responders who rushed to help in the aftermath have since been diagnosed with cancer. Their sacrifice continues to exact a devastating price, decades later. The pain—physical, emotional, spiritual—still echoes through the lives of those who were there.
The grief of survivors and families of the fallen will never truly fade. Their burden will remain until their last breaths on this earth.
Twenty-four years later, the horror of America’s darkest day still reverberates. The memories of the brave souls we lost must live on—not just for those who were there, but for generations who were not yet born.
For those of us old enough to remember, the terrible images of September 11, 2001 are seared into our minds forever.
I was an investigative journalist at the NBC affiliate in Buffalo on the one-year anniversary of 9/11. Along with a photojournalist, I spent a week in and around Ground Zero, sharing the stories of families who had lost loved ones.
By then, “The Pit” no longer resembled twisted steel and smoldering ruins. Instead, it was a barren dirt foundation, framed by scaffolding and a long ramp where families and dignitaries walked down to pay tribute.
What I will never forget is a woman sitting on the sidewalk near where the Twin Towers once stood. She sat with her head in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably—her raw grief pouring out for the world to see. More than 20 years later, I still remember only two things about her: her dark hair, her white blouse.
And her sobs. Her gut-wrenching, soul-shaking sobs.
So many of us share memories like these. We remember exactly where we were when the planes hit. Where we were when the Towers fell. Who we knew that never came home.
But what about those who came after? What about the college seniors born after September 11, 2001?
Who will carry the memories forward for them? Who will tell them who the victims were, why our nation was attacked, how we responded, and how we rebuilt on that sacred ground?
We must. Those of us who remember.
It is our sacred duty to honor the dead, to share their stories, and to ensure that future generations understand the cost of freedom. We owe it to the fallen to never forget—and to remain vigilant against the evil that still threatens us.
We owe them everything. Their sacrifice demands our memory, our vigilance, and our resilience as a nation.
Never forget. Never again.