Blessed.

Today is a day of remembrance, a day we will never forget.  As the sky grows darker and the rain starts to fall, my thoughts turn to a passage from The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald:

I tried to think about Gatsby then for a moment, but he was already too far away, and I could only remember, without resentment, that Daisy hadn’t sent a message or a flower. Dimly I heard someone murmur, "Blessed are the dead that the rain falls on," and then the owl-eyed man said "Amen to that," in a brave voice.

Ten years ago, as a child I couldn't grasp the magnitude of this day.  Ten years later, I begin to see and hear the stories of heroism and sacrifice, pain and loss.  And the day jumps from surreal to real again, a day I will never forget.