It has been a while since my last update, but returning to these photographs today brought back a profound sense of reflection
As the 25th anniversary of September 11 approaches, I have found myself thinking not only about the events of that day, but also about the personal connections that made its aftermath especially difficult.
At the time, I was working for Verizon and was expected to travel to the area for a business visit. After the trip was delayed, I was hesitant to travel north because I feared that another attack might occur. When I eventually made the journey, the area felt unlike anything I had ever experienced. Places that would normally have been busy were nearly empty. It felt like a ghost town.
The client I later visited told me that he had witnessed the attack at the Pentagon from his office. I still have the local newspaper’s special “Extra” edition from that day—a small, physical reminder of an event that changed the country and continues to live in the memories of so many people.
In 2012, I visited the 9/11 Memorial for the first time. Standing beside the reflecting pools and hearing the water fall into their depths was an intensely solemn experience. The names engraved around the pools represented thousands of individual lives, but one name carried a particularly personal meaning for me.
Among those engraved names was a Verizon employee who held the same job title I held. She had worked at the Pentagon and was a wife and mother. Seeing her name on the memorial pool brought the enormity of September 11 down to a deeply personal level. She was no longer only part of a number or a historical account. She had been a colleague in the same profession, with a family, a career, and a life that mattered.
I photographed her name because I wanted to preserve that moment of recognition. Even now, remembering it brings a sense of sadness and solemnity.
On a later visit, I photographed the memorial grounds at dusk. The reflecting pools, the surrounding buildings, and the Oculus created a striking contrast between loss and renewal. The memorial honors the past, while the architecture and life around it suggest that the city—and the people who live in it—continued to move forward
Visitors often leave small gestures of remembrance beside the names: American flags, flowers, and other tokens of love and respect. Each one is quiet, but together they show that these names are not simply engraved in bronze. They continue to be remembered.
The final images in this series include the names of FDNY members from Ladder 5, Rescue 5, Ladder 10, and Engine 10—people who ran toward danger when others were trying to escape. Their sacrifice represents one of the most painful and enduring parts of September 11.
Twenty-five years later, these photographs remind me that remembrance is both collective and personal. We remember the scale of the tragedy, but we also remember individual names, individual families, and the lives behind every inscription.
“Never Forget” is more than a phrase. It is a promise to remember.
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