Date Submitted: 7/25/2018
I had just turned 18. This was my first experience as an adult. Before that day, I donâ€™t remember my life. I donâ€™t remember where I was the night before. I only remember that morning. I was in college and living with Grandma. She woke me up as soon as the news broke, and we watched in absolute silence. My grandpa had fought in WWII and he was a part of the Normandy invasion. June 6th was his 23rd birthday. And he instilled pride and patriotism in his family until the day he died. Watching my grandma watch the news, and seeing the calm and stoic behavior from her, you never wouldâ€™ve known that 9/11/01 was the seventh anniversary of my grandfather passing away. That day holds a dark place in my heart.
Those who die innocent deaths never really die. They are everywhere; we just don't see them in quite the same way. And the culmination of what they were and what their death meant is as prevalent and tangible as the warmth in your soul and the sorrow in your heart.
Imran (story excerpt)