Happy Birthday Grandpa and Remembering Those Who Have Served

Today is my Grandfather's birthday! Happy Birthday, Grandpa!

Unexpected rain and snow, and a long, long day yesterday are keeping them at home today, but there will be cake for sure. Grandpa has always had a sweet tooth. A day without cake, or something sweet, is not a day at all! Even better with butter!

I wrote about my grandpa around this time last year, as he has always been involved in preparations for the annual Memorial Day service at his local cemetary. I think that post deserves a re-read today.

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Yesterday, I heard this story from Susan about a plane trip she was on last week:

Just before departing from Chicago for Detroit, the plane's captain came out from the cabin and tucked his hat underneath his arm.

"Ladies and gentlemen, today we have the honor of transporting Staff Seargeant ____ to his final resting place in his home town of Detroit. Please join me in extending our deepest gratitude and condolences to his family, who are also with us on the plane in First Class. When we land, I would ask for your patience in remaining seated and allowing them to exit the plane first so that they may accompany their son."

When the plane landed in Detroit, there was not a sound as the family quietly deplaned. A military battalion came forward on the tarmac to receive the casket. The lines of soldiers in their pressed, gold-trimmed uniforms saluted in turn as it passed.

Every single passenger on the plane waited and watched, silently, many crying softly, as the family walked slowly, quietly along with the soldiers, their arms draped over one another's shoulders.

This took about a half an hour. Not one person complained, tried to make a cell phone call, or shuffled their luggage. Each and every passenger on the crowded flight waited quietly and reverently. All the whirling details of their lives stopped for just a short while, as they contemplated the sacrifice that this soldier and his family had made.

The captain returned to face the passengers, hat once again tucked under his arm. He thanked everyone for their patience and cooperation. Susan couldn't tell this story without once again being moved to tears by the sadness and tenderness of the scene: the quiet dignity of the family, the respect of the captain, and the hushed reverence of the people on the flight. We couldn't help crying with her. I still can't tell it without choking up.

On Memorial Day, for just a few minutes, put aside the little things that make up the day and consider our national "holiday" on the most personal level. Each life lost is a son, a father, a brother, a sister, a wife: a family grieving. Whatever the "reason" for a war, if there is one, whether it is just or unjust, whether it is for oil, or land, or power, brave people go to fight for their countries, their families and their homes. Some never see home again.

This day is for them.