The first thing I think of on September 11 is not the terrorist attack. I think of my Dad. September 11 is his birthday. He died a year before the attacks, fortunately. I say fortunately because it would have hurt him to have that day and his birthday conflated together for the rest of his life. I wish he wasn't gone; I miss him greatly. But that is one blessing at least in his passing.
Happy Birthday, Dad! I love you. Wish you were here.