First published on September 12, 2005.

In the new normal, September 11th is the new Labor Day. By that I mean that the autumn season doesn’t officially begin until we have mourned our losses from 9/11.

Falling on a Sunday, this year’s anniversary did feel like a national day of remembrance. Even though it looked like a typical fall Sunday and people did typical Sunday things – it wasn’t really a typical day at all.  At Ground Zero, at houses of worship, homes, firehouses, cemeteries, gardens, and on streets throughout the city, people commemorated the loss of  the nearly 3000 people who died on September 11. Bells tolled at the exact times the planes hit, as well as the times the south and north towers fell.

This year, I didn’t take part in any 9/11 memorial activities. In the past I have gone to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden to meditate on the grass or to Old First Church to sit and listen to the church bells ring. Last year I attended a dinner at Al Di La given by a friend whose husband died on that day. She wanted to thank all her friends for their support and love.

Yesterday, I was aware of it being September 11th from the moment I woke up. Listening to the names being read at Ground Zero was a stark reminder. And this year the siblings read the names, which brought its own stirring poignancy.

I don’t think the beginning of September will ever mean anything other than 9/11 and the dispair we felt on that day. And September 12th will always bring relief because on that day in 2001 we slowly began to put back the pieces. We also truly connected to one another and felt a real sense of solidarity. That is also the legacy of 9/11, Through our tears, our panic, and our bewilderment,  we began the protracted healing process that continues to this day.

9/11 will always be the day we took the hit. But on the day after, we begin to begin again and celebrate the goodness that persists despite the evil we have seen.