When "I'm sorry" is too late

Wow. It's the 19th. The 11th flew by and I never noticed. It took me about half the day two weeks ago on Sunday to realize that it was the 11th. When I finally did, I got mad at myself. How could I let it get by me? I wasn't hit so hard by it, in fact, I shrugged it off. I did realize the scale of the matter but I wouldn't let myself get caught grieving over people I never knew. It was about 4 days afterword when it hit me. My Dad is a civil engineer, he had a shot at a big break by building a new NY Stock Exchange. That chance was immediately blown off for priorities. The day of the attacks, it was a miracle that he got out of the city. He picked up my cousin at school and a random person who happened to live somewhat nearby. He started working 12 hour days and I rarely saw him. When I did, he was beat tired and very upset. The car he used was covered in debris and smelt of asbestos. Of course as his shifts changed and he got transfered into a new job site, I gradually forgot about it. While I know there will always be a place in my heart for that, humankind needs to forget to a certain degree in order to progress. Well, I figured I'd get a fraction of my story out there. Everyone has their own to share.

[Don't forget, but move on]