It is a beautiful September day here in Baltimore; the sky is cloudless and robin's egg blue.

Yet
it is a day cluttered with the remnants of another day two years ago.
And somehow, taking joy in the gift of this day seems like snatching
candy from the bowl while your parents' backs are turned.

But
why? The sorrow is there, clearly, but can we not feel joy and sorrow
at the same time? Can we not learn new lessons from this day rather
than rehash that which has past?

Today is a day that should
remind us to live our lives, rather than relive them. In looking
backward, we should look forward. How can we change the world for the
better from this moment forward? How can we accept what we cannot
change and make the best of it?

We mark a loss today, a
punctuation mark in our personal histories. But it is a comma, not a
period. We remake the world every day; let's remember how those we've
lost would want the world to be as we move to remake it better.