Arlington Cemetery

I cannot help but be grateful. Grateful is not even a word that brings justice to how I feel. As I walked through Arlington National Cemetery, I had one of the most sobering experiences of my life. Grave after grave, tombstone after tombstone, I walked silently crying. These were not simple decorations or even just memorials. Memorials used to mean something- something significant happened or someone did something extraordinary. They are not landmarks. They are symbols, jewels of history. Walking the mile, so it seemed, to my friend’s gravesite, I had this sense of respect, honor, and legacy that I have never felt before. Those men and women buried there were not mere men or women. They were not ordinary. They lived and died in purpose, with a cause birthed in their hearts. America. Family. Friends. Brotherhood. Freedoom. Whatever their reason, it was enough for them to lay…