My daughter, then a high-school senior, and I had tickets for the Easter mass at the Vatican - it was the last appearance of John Paul II who died within the week.
The thing that made me tear up though was the thousands of people reciting the Nicene Creed, each in their own language, and when we got the the line “we look for the resurrection of the dead”, I teared up. My older brother had died three days earlier, and we weren’t able to return for his funeral. Being in that huge mass of people made me realize what “catholic” (little c) really meant.
Hang Gliding over Telluride,CO. Actually, pretty much all the the time I’ve spent in the San Juans. I grew up in Denver and the Rockies are great, but the San Juans are freaking spectacular.
We said goodbye to my parents at Riverside National Cemetery in December, 2008. Momma had died ten years before, and we had kept her ashes. Daddy passed away at the end of November, 2008, so we had them inurned together in the columbarium. Daddy was retired Air Force, and my husband made sure we had the full show: honor guard from the Air National Guard, riflemen, and a real bugler to play Taps.
It was beautiful, moving, and respectful. I felt the full impact of the honor of service to our country, and how our country bestows honor back to the veterans as they are buried. All of the rituals have a purpose, and it really does give comfort to the survivors. The folding and the presenting of the flag, the rifle shots, and then the haunting, solemn rendition of Taps. My husband made sure they gathered the spent shells and placed them inside the folded flag.
Every time I go to the cemetery to visit my parents, to pay my respects to their memory, I see all the other markers, I look over the green, green grass and I see the flags snapping in the wind, and I mentally say, “Thank you,” over and over, to all who served.
Patriotism, gratitude for the service of those in uniform, and of course the personal loss. A very powerful combination where it would be hard NOT to shed tears.
~VOW
A helicopter crash killed a couple of my partners and friends six years ago. Two years later, while in the academy, my class ran the hills by the river where the helicopter went down. The last part of our PT session that day was to break into groups of three (the third passenger in the helicopter survived) and carry each other up the hills.
