I remember one day as a young girl playing hopscotch on our driveway at our home, my mother was sitting in a chair in the yard watching us play. I remember my mother standing up with a look of horror on her face, as tears filled her eyes. I turned around to see what would cause my mother to react that way, and saw a long black car pull up to our neighbor’s home. I am ashamed to say I don’t remember the families name but I remember how kind the lady of the house was and how sweet her son was. I never met the man of the house. I remember the last time I spoke to her she was so sad about her only son leaving. She said” He had left to serve his country and do his patriotic duty.” I had no clue what she meant; I just remember the pain it caused her. My mother’s voice trembled as she told me to go into the house. I ran into the living room and sat in the big bay window, watching the events that would forever change so many lives. Two men in uniforms got out of the car and went to the door. I watched as the lady opened the door, heard her scream and watched in horror as she fell to the ground. I’m not sure how long she laid there crying, I can still feel the emotion and pain of that moment today as I type this. Vietnam, her son was a soldier who was killed in the line of duty serving his country.
He paid the price for our freedom.
His parents paid the price for our freedom.
His family paid the price for our freedom.
His friends paid the price of our freedom.
Those who watched in sadness as his mother, learned of his fate paid a small price for our freedom.
The privilege you have of living in a country that gives you the freedom of choice is paid by people who are brave enough to follow their hearts and by those who are courageous enough to do their patriotic duties for our country.
I can find no words to express what my heart feels for these heroes.
Today I am grateful for those who served, serve and will serve our country, may God bless each and every one of you.