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LuAnn
In Honor of Those Gone Before
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Slowly he made his way across the soft, spongy grounds to the older
section of the cemetery. He was watching the years roll by as he made the
trek, carrying his bucket full of flags. He'd done this since he was a
small boy when his father told him the stories of the brave men who'd
given their all for his freedom. Now it was his turn to honor them on
this special day.
He stopped at the gate to the old church cemetery. The church was long
gone, burned during the Civil War but the stone shell was maintained as a
memorial to those gone before. He started placing flags in front of the
stones, remembering the stories his father related regarding each soldier
and the war he fought. Most of them were related in some way, as the town
was so very small back then that almost everyone ended up family after a
time.
He paused before one stone, that of a 15-year-old boy, killed in one of
the first battles for independence. According to the stone, he was a flag
bearer and beloved son. The old man thought of his great grandson, now a
strapping 16-year-old on the football team at his school. His eyes filled
with tears as he placed the flag at the base of the stone. Stepping back,
he saluted the young hero and paused for a moment of respect. With a
sigh, he moved on to yet another fallen hero from yet another war,
repeating the silent ceremony for each one in turn.
As he came to the last stone, the most recent, he turned back to survey
the scene. So much bravery in the small cemetery, so much youth given for
such a precious commodity. So many flags, so many lives, so much given,
and so much received. He saluted one more time in honor of them all, then turned to rejoin the present.
© 2001 LuAnn Gould
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