It is what it is.

Memorial Day 2013. 

On Sunday morning, Mom, Jackie, Ryan, Mike, Jared, and I sat in the Rotunda and bore witness to the naming of almost 250 veterans who had died and were buried in the Middle Tennessee Veterans Cemetery since Memorial Day 2012. 

The day was beautiful, sunny and breezy, with American flags hailing the veterans and nation. 

There are rows and rows of new graves since Dad was buried last July. I am so thankful for a day to honor veterans and thankful to be part of something bigger, to be reminded that freedom comes with such a price, that no family escapes loss, that there has been a normal day happening in my life while someone else's life was reeling out of control and that I need to be kind for I never know what someone else is facing. 

I stood at the grave and touched the headstone for I desperately wanted to touch Dad. I have so much to tell him, so many things to catch up on over the last 10 months of separation. I need his advice, I need his wisdom, I need to chat over a Utah stream while we're fly fishing. I felt the ache in my throat from the tears that threatened to well up and wash over the grass growing on the grave.  I've never been a public crier, it doesn't feel safe or comfortable or comforting. I cry alone particularly when writing or with Jared. I have many friends who are literally able to cry with a friend and I envy this at times, this ability to show empathy in such a way. 

And in the midst of loss and sadness, I am thankful for young life that wells up joyful and real, that puts one foot in front of the other and marches on to new journeys.