As I entered the cemetery, I saw the white stones, rows and rows, some as white as snow and some that were tinted green and brown as the fingers of time and mother nature had left their mark upon them. But these stones faded as I saw the faces of those who had come this Memorial Day. I saw the grief and sorrow, duty, and wonderment in those faces this day.
There was an old woman, leaning upon the arm of her grandson as she placed a bouquet of roses upon her husband's grave…as she raised her head I saw a tear that had started down her cheek before she raised her white gloved hand to wipe it away. I caught her eye and nodded with a small smile upon my face, to let her know that I understood that tear upon her cheek.
I then saw a girl of about ten, dutifully carrying a bucket filled with flowers, following her mother as the mother went to several stones and placed flowers upon graves. I hoped that the daughter would continue to follow in her mother's footsteps, when time has taken her mother, and it is the daughter's turn to carry on this loving duty.
And, at last, I saw those who were trying to tell their little ones that this is where their relative is that gave their life for theirs. You see the wonder in their little faces and hope that they will bring their children to marvel at what this ancestor of long ago had done for them.
As I leave this place, I look upon these many stones knowing that they will be cared for and that in a hundred years, they still will be here waiting for all those that come, no matter what the reason!
Jeanette: “TIME IS INEVITABLE, IT WILL ALWAYS PASS”
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Michael Robert Patterson was born in Arlington and is the son of a former officer of the US Army. So it was no wonder that sooner or later his interests drew him to American history and especially to American military history. Many of his articles can be found on renowned portals like the New York Times, Washingtonpost or Wikipedia.
Reviewed by: Michael Howard