Heroes

I once heard of a gentleman in Virginia who routinely spends an entire day on a patch of grass atop a public hill with his son. Together they would spend the entire morning, noon, and even night together sleeping on the very same patch of grass.

On this particular day, the gentleman brought his lawn chair, his sleeping bag, a book, food, and umbrella --- apparently ready to spend the day again with his son.

Today, however, passers-by kept interrupting his visit , asking him questions, introducing themselves to him. He wished they would just leave him alone. He had devoted this entire day with his son, not entertaining people who walked up to him. Nevertheless, he was able to read the book he wanted to read, relate the story he wanted to tell, open the album of pictures of his son from birth to the first steps he took, through his first days of school.

By nightfall, as he prepared to sleep on that patch of grass with his son, concerned passers-by notified the local authorities. He didn’t care. He was only keeping the promise he made to his son. This was his son’s time. Nothing else mattered.

In the past, the gentleman hadn’t spent enough time with his son. He was always too busy at work, making a daily living to provide as best he could to the family. Time seemed to fly as the son grew into an independent young man, trying to make a name for himself, no doubt partly to get his father to notice him. So the son joined the military, finding himself in the middle of an unpopular war.
Soon, the son returns home, having received a newfound respect from his dad. Things couldn’t have been better between them.

Tonight however, dad can’t hold back the tears as he curls up next to his son.
For as much as he wants to put his arms around his son, he can’t. He wishes he could have those times back when he could have run home from his busy job and tell his son how much he loved him, but those times are passed. Now, he can only hold on to the memories he barely remembers --- memories of a disappointed face, a sad smile of a little boy he left as he dashed out of the house to work.

Now the only physical thing he can hang on to are the grass he’s curled up on and his son’s name on the headstone laid atop the patch of grass he was laying on.
Now all he remembers are the uniformed gentlemen at his front door, the emotion on his wife’s face as she falls prostrate to the floor as she ultimately knew the message before it could be delivered. Their son had died in battle.

Today, as we commemorate our veterans, let’s also keep those our veteran’s left behind in our prayers.
God Bless.