My family has been blessed. No one, to my knowledge, has died in a war, foreign or domestic. Both of my grandfathers served--one in WWII, one in Korea--but they never saw battle. My father was too young for Vietnam and my Uncle was in the Peace Corps. My husband was an Air Force Officer during Operation Iraqi Freedom, but never sent (oh, thank God!). My cousin, Sarah, was actually sent to Iraq with the Army, but never saw combat (who knows what she did see.
I am proud of their service. All of them.
On Saturday, my husband and I took our children to a local lake for a picnic and hike. On the way there I noticed a lone gravestone with two flags beside it. It looked rather old and was in an odd place--close to a country road, all by itself. Headed home, I made Russ pull over so I could check it out. What a find! It was a Revolutionary War gravestone. The soldier was born in 1750, served in the U.S. War if Independence which ended in 1783, and died in 1833. And someone had put American flags out for Memorial Day--227 years after he fought.
Always remember. I don't think that's asking too much. If someone else can remember for 227 years, we can surely follow suit.
*The picture above is not of the grave I found. It is merely and example.