Sometimes you run across something that really puts life in a new perspective. You pause for just a moment, and reflect on the blessings that you have been given.
Last week, Catfish and I had a wonderful weekend of diving. We dove in deep, dark, cold water, and he accomplished things that few kids his age attempt, much less accomplish. In training for these dives, and in acquiring the skills and knowledge to make the dives, he's achieving a maturity of thought at an early age. He's learning that anything can be accomplished with proper equipment and training. Anything.
On Wednesday of last week, his 8th grade class went on a three day trip to Washington, DC. One of the places we visited was Arlington. It may not have occurred to anyone else, but it struck me that each of the heros buried there was someone's son, someone's brother or sister, or someone's dad. Over 600 acres of heartbreak. At the Tomb of the Unknowns, the click of the heels of the Honor Guard echoed across the plaza while 300 8th graders stood silently. The sun beat down on everyone, but the silence of so many lay very heavily on the moment. Again, the little voice in my mind whispered to me that this was someone's son, someone's brother, someone's father.
We visited the Vietnam Memorial. It looks like an open wound across a grassy field. At panel 37 West, Line 65 the name Douglas D Estes appears.
On December 8, 1968, Doug was Killed in Action in Vietnam. He was 18 year old, and he was my cousin. I met him but once in the spring of 1968 at my grandparents home. It was a hot day, and he was smiling and laughing and horseback riding with his girlfriend. He had kind words for his little cousins. I remember thinking that he was so big, and so strong. He was a soldier. He knew how to shoot a machine gun. He got to fly in helicopters. He was there that one weekend, and then he was gone.Only a parent can know the heartache of burying a child. As I looked at panel 37 West, Row 65, I remembered Aunt Dale's tears at Doug's funeral in Memphis. For a moment, I remembered Doug, smiling and laughing at my grandparents home. I looked further down the sidewalk before the Wall, and caught a glimpse of Catfish and his buddies, looking somberly at the wall. Like a bolt of lightening, a thought struck me. I looked up the sidewalk and saw only children coming down, looking at the wall. I looked back at the wall, and knew that each name was someone's child. I looked back toward Catfish and his buddies, but in that instant, they were gone.
I looked at Doug's name on the wall again. It was there, but he was gone, and for just a second, I sensed the utter loss and profound sadness that covered Aunt Dale for the rest of her life. With a new insight, I moved up the sidewalk to find Catfish and his buddies.
