Thoughts of A Time Past

It has been said that time heals all wounds. But even time lacks the power to erase memories. Each year around this day in June, I remember the story. In 1999 I had the opportunity to travel toWashington, D.C. as a chaperone for a group of wonderful young musicians and singers. My daughter was a member of the group and my son came along as kind of a mascot. The itinerary was set in stone by the leader of the group. One of the stops would be the Wall.

A bus ride gives you time to think. Think of the days and nights you wished you could forget. Think of friends who never had the chance to have a family or know the family they had. Think of the absurdity of fighting a senseless war. Yet, when your country calls, the duty and responsibility to defend against all enemies, real or perceived, challenges you to forget all thoughts of self and work toward the common good of all.

I thought my heart was hardened for the task at hand. After all I had served almost two years in the 'Nam and eleven years as a cop in the city. I had witnessed much and wept little. My son was six at the time of our walk along the Wall. As we held hands and took our first step, my eyes filled with tears. Uncontrollable sobbing, followed by a deluge of tears. The sorrow, anguish and pain of twenty eight years of denial finally was let loose. My son looked up at me and I know he sensed the gravity of the situation. He led me down the path in front of the wall to a bench. He had never seen his father cry, but he did not abandon me in my time of need. My daughter, sixteen at the time, found me and gave me a comforting hug. Others in the group, young and old, were unable to comprehend. Why the tears? They would never understand.