Reflections on 9/11 twelve years later

I live in the NYC area, I have for most of my life. While many passed away that day, and I have grieved for their families, the casualties of this act were the people on the street who suddenly saw ash and half burnt papers-office memo's falling from the sky, and the thousands upon thousands of rescue workers who toiled without break to help anyone trapped in the debris. Everyone mourns the ones who died. I pray for the living. The people who survived and are wondering 'Why me???? He should have lived instead of me!' I pray for the ones who walked by the rubble every day, for those who were trapped in the dark subway beneath the towers for hours nit knowing what was happening outside, who smelled the ash for weeks afterwards, who looked up and remember that their whole world has changed- for the worse- and wept. I wept! I live an hours train ride from NYC! I wept for my two sons not being able to go to an airport without seeing US Marines posted everywhere. I wept because my country- the land of the free and the home of the brave- had its freedom violated by a mastermind who was definitely, in my mind, not brave. I wept for the changed skyline, for the fear that now entered my heart because it MAY not be safe to go anywhere. I wept. And on days like today, I weep again. I did not lose anyone. But for a while there, our whole country lost an important thing- hope. It came back with every person they pulled out of the rubble alive, with every rescue worker whose face was on a Newspaper, with the great outpouring of people who wee sending clothing to the rescue workers so they could continue their work. It has returned, we as a country are stronger and braver and more dedicated than our foes ever knew. God Bless America!