Twenty years may have passed since that dreadful morning when terrorists attacked our city, but the weight of that July day in 2005 remains as heavy as ever.
That is all I could think about this morning as I sat in the silence of St Paul's Cathedral with other Londoners paying tribute to the victims of 7/7, and to the spirit of our city, which leapt to each other's help when the unthinkable happened.
The names of the victims remembered today - 52 precious lives cut short, hundreds more forever changed - remind us that behind every statistic lies a human story.
A mother who never came home from work. A young man whose dreams were extinguished on his morning commute. Students whose futures were stolen in an instant.
On the 20th anniversary of the 7/7 bombings, the weight of that July day is as heavy as ever - Susan HallGetty Images
Each name represents not just a life lost, but families shattered, communities wounded, and dreams that will never be fulfilled.
Humanity is when the statistic becomes the personal: when numbers on a screen or names on a page transform into a debt against all of us and give us pause for thought.
But if today's service taught us anything, it is that whilst evil sought to divide us, London's response was one of extraordinary unity.
As I listened to the words of the service echoing through the cathedral, the countless acts of heroism that emerged from the darkness that morning came back to me.
Londoners - emergency workers, first responders, even just those who were in the area and dropped everything to help their fellow citizens - came together in an instant.
Now, 20 years later, as we come together again, we cannot allow ourselves to forget even the smallest deeds that morning that were done selflessly for one another. The emergency services who rushed towards danger deserve our eternal gratitude.
The paramedics who worked tirelessly in the tunnels beneath our streets, the firefighters who descended into the Underground's depths, the police officers who secured our city - these brave souls embodied the very best of public service.
They ran towards the chaos when every instinct screamed to run away, and they stared down the horrors facing them to carry out their duty.
This instinct to do what is right in the face of danger is the quiet heroism that defines London's character. In those dark hours, we were united against the threat and the horror.
As we left St Paul's this afternoon, I watched families embracing, survivors sharing quiet words of comfort, and strangers nodding in acknowledgement of our shared experience.
The cathedral's steps, worn smooth by centuries of Londoners seeking solace, bore witness once again to our city's enduring strength.
Twenty years on, London stands as vibrant and diverse as ever. Our buses still run, our Tube still carries millions, our streets still bustle with life from every corner of the globe.
The terrorists failed because they fundamentally misunderstood what makes London great - not our buildings or our systems, but our people and our refusal to let hatred win.
The silence in St Paul's this morning wasn't empty: it was full of love, full of memory, and full of an unbreakable spirit that no act of terror can ever destroy.
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