When Grief Echoes Across Time: Finding Hope and Wholeness on September 11

Hey, it's Ronai

Today, on September 11, we pause to remember.

We honor the 2,977 lives lost on that clear morning in 2001—mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, friends and colleagues. We remember the firefighters, police officers, paramedics, and ordinary citizens who ran toward danger when everyone else ran away. Their courage and sacrifice saved lives and showed us what selfless love looks like.

We also lift up those who still serve to protect us—military personnel, first responders, and quiet everyday heroes who keep watch so that others may live in safety. Two decades on, many still carry unseen wounds: lingering health challenges from Ground Zero, and the heavy emotional toll of trauma.
To them we say: We see you. We thank you. We remember.

Even as we honor the sacred memory of September 11, we are again confronted with the sting of violence. Yesterday, Charlie Kirk—author, speaker, and founder of Turning Point USA—was shot and killed while speaking at Utah Valley University in Orem, Utah. Known for mobilizing young people in civic engagement and challenging audiences to debate ideas, Charlie devoted his career to stirring conversation and encouraging involvement in public life. His sudden death not only silenced a prominent voice but left a family, a team, and countless supporters in shock and mourning.

That same day, tragedy also struck Evergreen High School in Colorado, where a young student opened fire on two classmates before turning the gun on himself. One of the three has died and others remain hospitalized in critical condition. Law enforcement responded within minutes, containing the scene without firing a single shot, yet an entire school community is forever changed.

These events—different in scale but united in heartbreak—remind us that grief is not contained by time or place. From the ashes of 9/11 to the hallways of a Colorado school or the stage at UVU, sorrow surges into our lives again and again, calling us to stand together in fear, compassion, and resolve.

In moments like these—whether decades past or as fresh as yesterday—we discover again that what unites us isn’t politics but humanity. On September 11 we were not Republicans or Democrats—we were simply neighbors helping neighbors. That same spirit calls to us now: to sit with those who mourn, to reach across divides, and to refuse to let violence and fear define us. Today, grief reminds us that when someone is wounded, a life cut short, or a community forever changed, it is not a tragedy for “others” but for all of us. Whether in the ashes of 9/11, the hallways of a Colorado school, or the stage at UVU, these moments reveal our shared vulnerability, fear, and hope—and our enduring capacity to care.

In a world increasingly torn apart by division, moments like these invite us to slow down and remember a simple truth: underneath our differences, we are all fragile, all made to love and be loved, all yearning for peace. The emotions of grief, fear, and longing are universal—and in naming them together, we find connection.

When the weight of tragedy and everyday life feels heavy, I turn to a handful of practices that help me stay grounded—not just as a coach, but as a person. These are the same tools I use with clients and with myself to process the kinds of enormous traumas we’ve just remembered, and the quiet griefs that show up in ordinary days.

Essential Oils – There’s something profoundly calming about simply pausing to inhale a drop of oil. And let’s be honest, there are WAY too many that I use on the daily to share here, but a few of my must-haves include:

• Frankincense: for spiritual centering

• Copaiba: for soothing tension

• Adaptive blend: for emotional regulation

• Balance: for grounding presence

• Citrus Bliss: my go to happy place

Inhale deeply or apply (diluted if sensitive) to wrists or wrists for a moment of physical comfort.

Breathing Practices

• 4-7-8 Breath:
  Inhale 4 seconds → hold 7 seconds → exhale 8 seconds. Repeating this calms the nervous system.

• Box Breathing:
  Inhale (4) → hold (4) → exhale (4) → hold (4). A simple rhythm to reclaim peace.

Alongside these physical practices, I lean on what I call Holistic Alignment—a blend of Emotion Code work to name and release hidden burdens, quiet moments of faith and discernment, and the intentional use of essential oils and positive affirmations, all while listening for God’s voice. Together, these habits help me shift grief from something that pins me down into a path that can transform and heal.

And then there’s the gift of CliftonStrengths. Knowing the unique ways God wired each of us provides a kind of inner stability when the world shakes. Your strengths remind you who you are when everything feels unsteady; they nurture resilience by pointing you toward what you naturally do well; and they restore purpose, showing you how you can still contribute love and light even in dark times.

These practices aren’t about perfection—they’re about presence. They invite us to stay tender and hopeful when life is hard.

Choose Unity and Kindness. The choice really is up to each of us. I invite us to slow down together. Pause before reacting—whether online, in conversation, or in the privacy of your own thoughts. Offer grace to people whose grief or fear might look different from yours. And remember that before we are citizens of any country or members of any party, we are human beings first, created for love and belonging.

As you finish reading this, consider a simple next step. Breathe deeply—maybe with a favorite oil—while whispering a quiet prayer. Journal for a few minutes about this question: How can I be a source of healing and kindness today? Or send a single message of care to someone who needs to know they’re not alone.

May this September 11 be a day of remembering and gentle healing. May grief draw us toward compassion rather than division. And may the love we extend—one small act at a time—be our enduring gift to one another.