On TV this morning, a Father, at an airport, wating by an airplane, as they bring the flag drapped coffin off, the coffin of his Son. I had seen that before, but that one really hit me.
I remember the dreadful feeling when our Son left for Desert Storm. I remember how elated I was, two years later, when I drove East to pick him up. We were so happy to have him home I wanted to go pick him up rather than have him fly home. It was so good to have him back with us.
But to have your son, or daughter, come home in a flag draped coffin, I cannot imagine the despair. They are brought into the world, you bring them up, all the knocks and bruises, all the good times, all the good memories. All that goes with bringing up a child, the good times and the bad. Then they are grow up, they graduate from high school or college, So proud.
And, then you have to say goodbye, the tears, the sadness, as they leave for the service.
Then to see them come home this way, their life ended. The streets are lined with people, most holding American Flags, hands on their hearts, as the car with the coffin passes by, a fitting tribute, but I cannot imagine the emotions that are going through the Mother and the Father and the family.
A life ended before it was time.
