Soldier

I saw a burial with a bugler playing taps; I turned to my father, “what happened?” I asked. He clutched my hand and with a quiver in his voice, he began to explain and his eyes became moist. “My son,” he said, “this is rather difficult for me; for an old veteran like myself this is tough to see. In that coffin lies a genuine patriotic warrior, an honest-to-God hero, an American soldier. I appreciate that soldier and the service he gave, and I honor his sacrifice as he’s laid in his grave. He was honorable, selfless, courageous, and bold; please remember him son, as you grow old. The value of his service, I must explain, if not remembered, will be lost in vain. As a nation we’re nothing without soldiers like him; and failing to remember would be a terrible sin.” I listened in awe as my father spoke, it seemed as if his heart were broke. I suddenly remembered when he went to war, and when he returned I thought nothing more. I never asked why he walked with a limp, and I didn’t care about why he was sick. I was too busy enjoying the life that I had, to realize that I had it because of dad. I finally understood what my dad was about, and it hurt so bad I cried out loud. He sacrificed so much so I could be free, and his battle scars were suffered for me. It was my father’s spirit that spoke to me that day; thank God I finally understood what he had to say. I saluted his coffin as they laid him to rest, and I thought about the medals pinned on his chest. That I didn’t honor him sooner, I will always regret; and I pledged that day to never again forget. I’m proud that my dad was a patriotic warrior; I’m honored to be the son of an American soldier.