09/11/2026
We begin this morning by taking an American flag into our hands. We fold it in remembrance. There are thirteen folds.
The first is a symbol of life.
The second, belief in eternal life.
The third honors those who gave part of their lives in defense of this country.
The fourth is for our weaker nature, and the turn toward God in peace and in war.
The fifth is a tribute to our country.
The sixth is for where our hearts lie, and the pledge we make to this flag.
The seventh honors the Armed Forces who protect it.
The eighth honors the one who walked through the valley of the shadow of death, and honors the mother.
The ninth is a tribute to womanhood.
The tenth is a tribute to the father.
The eleventh glorifies, in the Hebrew tradition, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
The twelfth is an emblem of eternity and, in the Christian tradition, of God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
The thirteenth, with the stars left uppermost, reminds us of our motto: In God We Trust.
When it is finished, the flag is shaped like a cocked hat—the shape that recalls the first soldiers, sailors, and Marines who carried this country. We fold it now for September 11th.
Twenty-five years later, we still say the date the same way.
At 8:46 a.m., American Airlines Flight 11 struck the North Tower.
At 9:03 a.m., United Flight 175 struck the South tower.
At 9:37 a.m., Flight 77 hit the Pentagon.
At 9:59 a.m., the South Tower fell—fifty-six minutes after it was struck, in about ten seconds.
At 10:03 a.m., Flight 93 went down near Shanksville after the passengers and crew fought back.
At 10:28 a.m., the North Tower fell—one hour and forty-two minutes after impact.
From the first strike to both towers on the ground was one hundred and two minutes.
That evening, at 5:21 p.m., 7 World Trade Center collapsed as well.
In the towers and on the ground around them, 2,753 people were killed. About 1,402 were in the North Tower. About 614 were employees in the South. Most above the impact floors never had a way out and some chose to jump.
The youngest victim was two.
The oldest was eighty-five.
They came from more than ninety countries.
Across all three sites that day, 2,977 innocent people died.
Then the people who run toward the fire arrived.
Three hundred forty-three members of the FDNY. Twenty-three NYPD officers. Thirty-seven Port Authority police. Eight private EMTs and paramedics. It remains the largest single-day loss of emergency personnel in American history.
They did not go alone.
About three hundred search-and-rescue dogs worked Ground Zero, the Pentagon, and Shanksville. They searched burning steel on twelve-hour shifts. When live finds stopped, handlers staged mock finds so the dogs would not quit. Only a handful of people came out of the rubble alive.
The last known survivor was pulled out about twenty-seven hours after the collapse, with a dog’s help. After that, the dogs found the dead when human eyes could not—and they sat with crews on the pile when nothing else would.
Search became recovery.
Fires burned for ninety-nine days.
Crews removed about 1.8 million tons of debris. On May 30, 2002—eight months and nineteen days later—the Last Column left the site, and official recovery at Ground Zero ended. Naming the dead has not. Remains are still being identified to this day and returned to families.
The second death toll was slower.
World Trade Center illness has now taken more FDNY members than died on the day itself. Hundreds of NYPD officers have died the same way. Across responders and survivors, thousands more have been lost to that dust and debris breathed in that day.
And there is a third accounting that is not on any wall.
First responders and healthcare workers die by su***de at rates often higher than the public they serve.
In recent years, trackers have recorded about 130 to 160 first-responder su***des annually—police, fire, EMS, corrections, dispatch—and they say that is an undercount. Fire and EMS groups confirm roughly 80 to 110 of those deaths in a typical year and estimate they only catch about 60 percent.
Police and firefighter su***de rates are commonly cited around 17 to 18 per 100,000, against about 13 to 14 in the general population. EMS personnel have been found about 1.4 times more likely to die by su***de than the public.
In healthcare, a national study put annual rates at about 21 per 100,000 for support workers, 16 for nurses, 16 for technicians, and 13 for physicians, compared with about 13 for other workers. Nurses—especially women in nursing—carry a clearly elevated risk. Reliable estimates put physician su***des near 120 a year. Statistically this might seem like a small number, but it is a heavy one—as one loss is too many.
We should not have a division of departments and mental health isn’t more important or worse for one vs the other. We should all come together to help each other so we can help others.
Today we honor the 2,977. We honor the crews who climbed. We honor the dogs who searched the pile. We honor the sick who came after. And we honor the living by telling the truth: the people who save lives are not immune to losing their own.
When this flag is finished, it is tight, and heavy, and meant for a family. We fold it for that Tuesday morning, and for everyone still carrying what that morning began.
Never forget is not only looking back. It is looking after the ones still on the job. If you wear the uniform—or love someone who does—ask. Stay. Get help.
We remember. We do not look away.
The weight of the flag is heavier than anybody we lose.
-Michelle Mouring, AAS, NRP
