I went in March for the first time and there are certain areas that photography is not allowed. One of those areas is a large room with floor to ceiling photos of every single victim who died that day. They had a touch screen where you could click on a person and learn about their life story.
This being a museum, there are children who visit too. I noticed while in this room that the younger kids (3-7) would go around and talk to the photos, count them, and touch them. Some would show off their toys, tell them they like their hair or clothes, or point out to their parents that someone looks like a family member.
I started to realize that these children do not see these as photos of victims but pictures of happy, smiling people.
To them, these people are just that, people, the ones they see everyday. They would walk around talking to them, using their imagination to create stories or play games with them.
I tried to hide my tears from the innocence and beauty of it all, but I couldn’t hold out for too long and silently cried.
I imagined the victims looking down and seeing these happy little children enjoying their photos and playing games with them. That they were seen for who they were, human beings, with lives and hobbies, not just victims of 9/11.