I wanted to get out there and take some pictures for Memorial Day before they took all the flags down.
As we drove in, my son, sitting in the backseat of the car, kind of exhaled and whispered, "Awwwesome."
"Look," I said pointing to the parade of cars lining the drive. "There must be a service going on." It seems like there's always a service going on.
We parked and began walking through the markers. I showed him the first headstone I ever photographed. He was the first solider killed in the war in Afghanistan and I go back and visit him every year. If I ever met his family, I'd probably cry.
I showed my son the grave of a solider who fought in the Civil War, and we talked about what the number on the back side of each headstone meant.
He asked questions about the symbols at the top of each headstone, and was very careful not to walk over the top of each place.
Then we heard the shots. Three of them.
"What is that?" he asked.
"That's the gun salute. Listen....Can you hear that?"
The trumpeter was playing Taps.
We continued walking, looking at the names, the dates. It was amazing to see how much had been built up and filled in since my visit last year. Amazing and sad.
"It's like Heaven here," he said.
"You think?"
"Yeah. But a special Heaven. One just for the soldiers. Don't you think there's a special Heaven just for soldiers?"
"I don't know," I said. "I think there's one Heaven for us all."
"No. There's a special one for the soldiers who died fighting. They deserve a special place."
They fell, but o'er their glorious graves
floats free the banner of the cause they died to save.
~Francis Marion Crawford~
Cheers and blessings to you all.
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