Thursday marks Patriot Day — not a federal holiday, but a solemn moment etched into the soul of our nation. On September 11, 2001, 2,977 lives were lost in coordinated terrorist attacks in the United States. Twenty-four years later, the echoes of that day still reverberate — in memorials, in stories, and in the quiet ways we choose to remember.

The Day That Changed Everything

I was the assistant editor of a small newspaper in Ohio. It was my day off. My husband called me downstairs, saying a plane had hit the World Trade Center. I thought he was joking — until I saw the second plane crash into the South Tower. I cried watching television.

Even as grief settled in, instinct took over. I called my editor. We coordinated coverage, gathered community reactions, and published one of the most meaningful editions I’ve ever worked on. It was the first time our paper covered something outside the county. We did it with care, urgency, and heart.

Peeking through the gate that leads to the crash site of Flight 93 outside of Shanksville, Pennsylvania. Considered sacred ground, the gate is only opened on Sept. 11 to commemorate the lives lost when the airplane crashed, killing all on board.

Telling the Story to the Next Generation

Years later, I stood at the Flight 93 National Memorial in Shanksville, Pennsylvania, with my children — all born after 2001. They didn’t care much about the locally sourced wood or stone. They were drawn to the faces. The names. The flowers left beside the plaques.

As we read the descriptions aloud, it hit me: these weren’t just victims. They were parents, children, coworkers, neighbors — regular people thrust into an extraordinary, horrific moment.

I often wonder if my kids truly understand what happened that day. They know the facts. They’ve seen the memorials. But they didn’t live through the fear, the unity, the flags that appeared overnight on every porch and car antenna.

My daughter and I preparing to climb 110 stories worth of stairs at a high school football stadium in Mississippi for a 9/11 Memorial Stair Climb.

Climbing for Those Who Couldn’t Come Down

On the 20th anniversary, my husband, daughter, and I joined a 9/11 Memorial Stair Climb — 2,071 steps, the equivalent of the 110 stories of the Twin Towers. Firefighters in full gear led the way. Their locators pinged as we climbed. I struggled with the heat, took breaks, and even snapped at my family when they tried to cheer me on.

I wasn’t proud of that moment. But I finished. On my own terms.

Later, a firefighter drenched in sweat gave me a fist bump and said, “I can tell you’re glad to be done.” Unlike the heroes we were honoring, I got to go home, nap, and talk with my kids. I had so much to be thankful for.

The Power of Place

I’ve seen the Pentagon Memorial too — 184 benches, each engraved with a name, arranged by age. The youngest was 3. The oldest, 71. The benches trace the path of the plane. Seeing them lit up before my first marathon brought tears to my eyes.

These memorials matter. But so do the moments we create in their spirit — the stair climbs, the community events, the quiet conversations with our children.

From Tragedy to Triumph

It’s easy to close ourselves off when we’re hurting. The pandemic taught us that. But sharing pain — even briefly — is part of what makes us human. It’s how we heal. It’s how we connect.

I often let my pride and the idea of moving on for the sake of moving on get in the way of the true meaning of Patriot Day — acknowledging the tragedy of Sept. 11, 2001, and the triumph of the human spirit that came afterward.

A man who lives in my community used to put up this display every year around September 11 in his yard, adding a few items each year. He died a few years ago, and the tribute has faded into memory.

The Legacy We Build

As we mark another Patriot Day, I hope we remember not just what was lost, but what was found: unity, compassion, resilience. And I hope we pass that forward — not just in words, but in action.

Because the memory we carry is the legacy we build. And the best way to honor the past is to live its lessons forward.