Each representing a life.
The ultimate sacrifice.
Gone too soon...
the pages turned and the cover closed on their story.
One by one, their names were individually called and a flag was placed on the top of their cross.
Just a brief moment in time, of reflection.
Stories ended before they had even begun...
And I thought how so many in that generation are gone, and nobody knows their stories...
I know the story behind one of those crosses. His name was George Washington Arrowood, and he was my Mamaw Na's older brother. He was a handsome young man, just 19 when he was sent overseas. He went into training and then came home on a furlough, missing his brother Paul by 2 days, as he was headed to Europe and Paul was headed to the South Pacific.
GW's Daddy was a preacher, and his Mama was a devout woman, petite in stature, but if she was anything like my Mamaw probably a little firecracker. Mamaw often recalled the story of when they received the telegram telling of GW's death. He is buried on a cemetery in South Jackson, with his Mom and Dad and his brother-in-law, and a baby niece named Sharon, my Mom's sister whom she never met.
A few sketchy details passed down by word of mouth...
and he was well-loved, as were many of the other men from here in Breathitt County whose names were read Friday night. I thought of how many of them were so very young... many Privates and Private First Class. Some of them buried at sea, some of them buried overseas, with no marker for their families to visit. Some of them killed before they even left stateside...
And each of those men left behind a family with a wealth of stories, memories of their loved ones and treasured family folklore to be told and retold...
We are a culmination of the stories of those who have gone on before.
What of those men (and women) who didn't have families waiting for them? Who will tell their stories?
If you've ever been to Arlington you know the solemnity of row after row of wooden crosses, symbolizing brave men and women across the generations that showed the greatest love because freedom is not free.
Perhaps tomorrow as you have your cookout or jump into the lake or toss a football with your loved ones you could pause and reflect on those who gave the ultimate sacrifice... and then find someone in your family who served and let them tell you their story, if they so choose, or the story of someone they've lost...
Because if we don't tell their story, who will?
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