“Just remember them,” I heard the voice inside of me say.

Recalling the value they shared, the joy they spread—seemed to be the best way.

If you were 12–15 years old, or older, on September 11, 2001, that date, nearly 25 years ago, most likely has a unique meaning to you.

Interesting, when I googled “September 11,” the page was immediately filled with facts, figures, pictures, and descriptions of an event in 2001. The page began with the header: “The September 11 attacks, also, often colloquially, known as 9/11.”

To the contrary, when I googled September 9, the results were much different..simple. It described the day: “The 252nd day of the year (253rd in leap years) in the Gregorian calendar.”

When someone says September 11th, or 9/11, the words carry weight.

Last Thursday afternoon, September 11, I stopped by my local Catholic Church to sit, listen, and pray. While sitting in the pew, my mind began to think about all the people who gave their lives that day. 

The experience, itself, will remain quite clear to me, as I was close, both emotionally and physically.

I lived about eight miles from the Twin Towers in 2001 when I was in my 20’s. On my drive to work that morning in New Jersey, the radio DJ mentioned a “situation at the World Trade Center.” When I got to work a few minutes later, one of my friends were frantically trying to locate his wife in Manhattan. I knew it was serious.

We watched as the story unfolded. Thankfully, my friend was able to connect with his wife. We were told to go home around noon. On the way home, where the George Washington Bridge crosses the Hudson River, my Jeep was searched and I was questioned by military personnel.

The following weeks felt like years. I watched from my apartment on the Hudson River, day after day, all the lights, sirens, trucks, and emergency vehicles speeding up and down the freeways. Moving debris. Searching for survivors.

I resigned and left the East Coast shortly after.

As I sat in church last week, listening to the occasional creak of a pew, a door closing, the children outside playing on the playground—screams and laughter filling the air with joy—I thought about all the individual humans affected by that attack. The grandparents, parents, siblings, friends, and neighbors who are still living with that void.

How are we to honor their loved ones? Those who have died, honorably, as well as those still feeling that pain?

“Just remember them,” I heard the voice inside of me say. Recalling the value they shared, the joy they spread—seemed to be the best way.

I pulled out my phone and found a list of the nearly 3,000 people lost in the towers that day. I slowly read through every name. Names that were personal and intimate to each family member. Names called out when it was time for dinner. Names cheered on at a little league field or the name written at the top of a math test. Names yelled through a house when dad or mom came home from work.

Names that mattered.

To all those left behind…I don’t know most of you. But remain encouraged. I remember them. I said their names. I know the tremendous value they continue to share with so many.

Names matter. Events matter. It all matters.

As the years pass, it can be easy to feel as though our loved ones are forgotten. The sister who died of a brain tumor, the nephew of a neighbor and his fatal car accident, 9/11, your teenage son’s good friend, or military service man or women…all of which feel as though they fade into history books and timelines. 

But it was never just an event, they weren’t just another person, or just another accident, or just another situation—they are a collection of lives, memories and influence...each with a name, a story, and a legacy.

To truly honor them, we must resist letting them become only part of a headline in our distracted world.

We keep them alive by pausing, by speaking their names, by carrying their values, and celebrating their personality, their smiles, & their way of being. 

Remembering isn’t just looking back—it’s choosing to live today with the same depth, gratitude, and love that their lives once gave to this world.

To all those who have lost someone close.  Remain encouraged.
- Brian