On Tuesday morning, September 11, 2001, four commercial airliners were hijacked and used to attack the U.S. – two planes were flown into the World Trade Center’s Twin Towers in New York City and a third into the Pentagon in Arlington, Virginia. Because of the actions of the 40 passengers and crew aboard the fourth plane, Flight 93, the U.S. Capitol was saved. The four aircraft strikes killed nearly 3,000 people, the deadliest terrorist attack on American soil. Today the National Park Service, its volunteers, and its partners work to honor their sacrifice and to try to understand more fully the legacy of Flight 93 and the other events of 9/11. We will #NeverForget. Photos from Flight 93 National Memorial by Tami A. Heilemann, Interior and the National Park Service.
I loved you from the very beginning. I loved you when you walked in and when you spoke up.
I loved you when you stared at me from the other side of the room. I even loved you when we did not talk at all.
I loved you when we started talking, when you mocked me for my taste in music.
I loved you when the sun shined down on you, when the water made your hair look red.
I loved you when you walked home with me. When you’d walk your bike home just to talk to me and we stood there, talking for several hours.
I loved you when you turned my world around, when you made me question everything I knew, everything I was sure of.
I loved you when we got more familiar. When we’d start mocking each other, secretly always admiring the other.
I loved you when we were friends.
And I loved you on New Year’s when you finally got the girl you’ve been chasing.
I loved you so much that it hurt in my head but I still wished you all the very best because I loved you. I loved you.
I still loved you. I still loved you when you’d talk about her, comparing her features to mine. I still loved you when I saw the pictures of you with her. I deleted all our texts, pictures and voice mails but after all, I still loved you.
I still loved you after trying to convince myself that I did not love you anymore, after drowning myself in alcohol, after repeating to myself that I once had a life without you so a life without you would be possible again.
I still loved you when we were at that party. When we both got drunk, when we debated and discussed, yelled at each other as we always did. So I still loved you when you told me you loved me.
And I still loved you when you kissed me, giving spark to an almost burnt out flame.
I loved you again. I loved you when I hated myself for letting you kiss me when you were not mine but hers.
I loved you after terrible hours of guilt. I loved you when you broke up with her. And I loved you when you called me your other half, saying there was so much attraction between us.
I loved you when you kept reminding me of that night, smiling.
And oh God, I loved you when I told you that again and you said you’d love me, too, but not in that way.
I loved you when my heart shattered in front of you, when my knees got weak and I had to act as though I felt the same.
I still loved you when you wrapped your arms around me, holding me tight for a few minutes.
And I still love you right now.
I still do. I always will.
You gave parts of you to me and I will keep them forever.
There will always be something of you in me. I can never let you go.
Because I love you. This way and the other.