Ten years ago, in 2015, I visited the 9/11 Memorial.  I walked slowly along the walls, reading the names—names of people I had never met, but who were someone’s mother, father, sibling, spouse, or friend. Ordinary people who had simply shown up for work or boarded a flight, doing what they did every day—until everything changed in an instant.

I remember watching it unfold live on television. That morning, I was sitting in the waiting area of a local Jeep dealership while my car was being serviced. A TV played in the background, mostly ignored, until something caught my eye: a plane flying unusually close to the towers. My first thought was that the pilot must be experiencing a medical emergency. Then came the impact. The room went still. All eyes turned to the screen as reporters tried to grasp what was happening. No one had answers. It was surreal—unthinkable. And then the second plane hit.

We watched in silence as ash filled the sky, people ran for their lives, and chaos gripped New York City. I immediately thought of friends and family who lived or worked there. My nephew, on his way into the city that morning, saw the smoke billowing from the towers as he commuted to his job. He was safe, but so many others were not.

Trauma imprints itself in our minds. Vivid memories often attach to moments of intense emotion—fear, grief, shock. Our brains seem to take mental snapshots in those moments, images that never fade.

So this weekend, as we reflect on those mental snapshots or listen to stories from those who were there, I encourage you to pray—for the families who lost loved ones, for the first responders, and for those whose health was affected by the toxic dust and smoke. It was a day marked by unimaginable loss but also by profound courage and resilience.

For those who lost loved ones, life was permanently altered. I understand that pain. I lost my brother in a different terror attack. He’s been missing from graduations, weddings, holidays—those big and small moments that make up a life. I miss him deeply and often wonder what our relationship would be like if he were still here. Anniversaries, in particular, are hard.

With time, we heal. The intensity of the pain may lessen, but the absence remains. We don’t forget—but we do need time and space to remember. And remembering is good. Call to mind the happy memories—vacations, birthdays, laughter around the dinner table. Let those memories rise. Share them. Sharing grief is a step toward healing.

If you know someone who lost a loved one on 9/11, consider reaching out. A simple note to say, “I remember,” can mean more than you realize.

Even in the face of great loss, we hold on to hope. Revelation 21:4 promises, “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” One day, we will be reunited with those we’ve lost. Our grief will end, and joy will be restored.

Until then, comfort those who grieve. Remember with them. And never forget.