Stars and Stripes

There is a flag flying proudly on my front porch today.
It is a flag that once flew over a military post where my son was stationed.
He is in the Navy.

There is another flag hanging on my son's wall, though he is not there to look at it. That one was handed to my mother at my father's funeral. My father served in the Tenth Mountain Division of the Army in World War II.


I have attended many funerals - too many - and they are filled with such a mix of emotions. Great sadness in spite of the relief of suffering. Near hysteria at the loss of one too young or whose life is taken violently or tragically. Disbelief at the incredulity of a suicide. It is so hard to stand in the presence of such deep, true emotion ....

But, have you ever stood at a graveside when a flag is handed to a loved one?
I have and what I remember is the heart swelling ache of pride. The heart swelling rush of gratitude to that person who sacrificed his or her comfort, safety and family time for ME.

That is how it feels when I watch a flag go from white gloved hands to the trembling hands of the person receiving it. This person that we are preparing to say goodbye to forever, served our country for ME. And I am the one that benefits from that sacrifice. I am the one that gets to walk away from the cemetery and live a life of freedom, a life pursuing joy ( my greatest happiness) because of this person who we are about to lower into the ground.

And I am always humbled as I watch the Stars and Stripes change hands.

Happy Birthday America, yes. But more than that, thank you to each and every man and woman who continues to serve under the Red, White and Blue. Thank you for your sacrifice for ME. May I live a life that is deserving of it.

Be safe today, come home soon. And for those who served before and are gone, rest in peace.