We drove through the small town of Cairo, Georgia on Sunday and were impressed with the flags that lined the main street. Each flag had a cross with the hand-lettered name of a serviceman who had died while in the military. What a meaningful way to honor their sacrifice.
There were way too many for one small community.
While many of my extended family served in the military and most of them were in wars and some were wounded, I do not know the names of any who actually died while serving. We have been extremely blessed. During WWII, it was the custom in my mother’s home town in Kentucky to put a star in the window for each serviceman in the family. My mother’s home had five stars in the window. They all came home, and also the man who would become my father. B served in Vietnam and came home safe; I am thankful that we did not even meet until after his return.
Each day on my way to school, I pass the house of a young man who was killed in Iraq a couple of years ago. Most days, I say a prayer for his family to find some peace and relief from the pain. I can only imagine losing someone I love that way.
Thank you, American families.