With the 15th anniversary about to arrive, it seems to me that time takes on a strange characteristic; passing and standing still. Perhaps it isn't time but consciousness. I also think of the adage "time heals all wounds" as being completely inadequate. I suppose it boils down to the size and depth of the scar of the wound. Suffice to say, mine and my family's is deep.
So as the world picks at the scab, there's little possibility of avoiding it and I know, at best, it's to remember that it was and is real.