That's on the old computer. I'll pull them out later.
But for now, this older Cox and Forkum piece was a gut punch for me.
Way back when, I was part of a funeral team that included a member of the fallen Soldier's unit. It was an airborne unit from Vicenza, Italy. As the flag team was preparing to march, having folded the flag and handed it to the OIC, the Soldier from the unit turned to the fallen Soldier's young brother. Kid was probably about 5 or 6. This Soldier knelt in front of that kid, pulled his jump wings from his uniform and pinned them on the kid, explaining that his brother had earned these wings himself, and he would want his little brother to have them as well. That little kid clutched those jump wings and bawled his eyes out. The Mother was holding that folded up flag to her chest and weeping, while the father held his wife and tried his best to be stoic. And failing...
I'm man enough to admit that once we marched away from the group of people around the coffin, we all cried. Every single one of us.
This is Memorial Day. To remember that Soldier; a medic who was shot while tending to a wounded brother. To the very first Soldier who's funeral I was a part of; a helicopter pilot who went down with his aircraft, who's coffin was only half the weight of a normal casket, and we never, ever opened it. We had been warned.
And that little kid, holding on to a set of jump wings and bawling his eyes out. This day is for them as well, because the reason for this day is also the reason for their pain and grief and suffering and wondering about what could have been.
Remember them all.
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