Eleven years ago today, the most horrific terrorist attack on American soil took place.

We have been watching shows about the heroes of 9/11 for the past week or so, and in doing so, I am experiencing a whole new level of remembering this attack.

Explaining it to my 8-year-old son.

For a chatty, exuberant child, these explanations can’t just end with something like “sometimes, there are people in the world that don’t necessarily like the US…” I can’t just tell him that the towers collapsed and lots of people died. He wants to know WHY.

How do you tell your child who still holds onto that little bit of innocence that sometimes people just want to hurt others, there isn’t always an explainable, tangible WHY?

We have talked about this at great length because of those shows, and he understands as much as he can right now. It hurts my heart all over again to go through the events of the attack, to explain the details to him, to explain why they were looking for badges, medals and any signs of the people that perished. He understands, he gets it. He understands a lot more than people give him credit for. And some people might say that I explain too much to him. But I want him to know. Why?

Kaden wasn’t alive on that day, he wasn’t there to witness what happened. We talk about details not only of the attack, but the American people standing together afterwards. The heroes. The people who gave of themselves to save others – even to the point where they gave everything. I want him to know what happened, so that we can work on love and understanding. So that he can be a light of joy and hope, instead of hate. Is it bad to explain things to him so often, so much? Some might think so. But I will keep doing it, so that he can be a voice to others that might not know or understand.

So that we remember, and pass those memories onto a future generation.