We will never forget ....

Today is 9/11. It is a day to remember our fallen heroes and the victims of the terrorist attack.

We buried my great uncle this morning. He served overseas and had a military burial. Around the time of that one of the towers fell, we were sitting in the funeral home chapel, paying homage to my great uncle, a war veteran. We listened to stories of the things Pop Pop Charlie had done. I wanted to stand up and say something, but I felt that what I had to say paled in comparison. The only thing I could say was "He was the only one who always called me Caitlin Bridget. Always." because, you see, three months before I was born, my cousin Caitlin, spelled the exact same way, was born. So to him, I was always Caitlin Bridget. It was how he made me special in a world full of people with the same name.

My brother, a Airman in the US Air Force, stood in his dress blues and saluted my great uncle's casket while TAPS was played. My great uncle was also his godfather and my brother felt it proper to pay him homage this way. He looked so handsome standing there in his dress blues, at attention, his hand up in a salute.

I had almost forgotten what day it was today, being so wrapped up and emotionally strung out from the wake last night and the funeral today. And for some reason, seeing my baby brother (okay so he's 24 but he'll always be my baby brother), I just started bawling. How did he get to be so big? Will something happen that will send him overseas to protect us because we've  been attacked again?

Everything is up in the air, but tonight, I do know one thing. My Pop Pop Charlie, my Grandpa, and their brother George are all reuinted together. Even more important, I know that my Pop Pop Charlie and his beloved wife, whom he lost in 1974, are sharing a dance that's been a long time coming. While it's hard for us to lose him, I know he's missed his wife every day since she passed and it must have felt like coming home again to see her there when he stepped through the gates of Heaven. I have no doubt that she was waiting for him.

I didn't get a picture of the casket with the flag on, but I did get one from the window of the car as we were pulling away. There's a simple sort of beauty to the display of love in this picture. While I don't like the idea of him in a box, it's a beautiful box, much like he was in life. He has so many who loved him and will continue to love him until we see him again.

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,
may God hold you in the palm of His hand.

(traditional Gaelic blessing)