About two years ago, just before Memorial Day weekend, I was flying home from a conference in Denver, and after I sat down in my seat, I noticed that in the row right behind me there were three young kids and a single mom. The youngest was a boy about 2 or 3, the middle one a girl maybe 4 or 5, and the oldest one was another girl no more than 7. The mom was sitting across the aisle by herself and the 2-year-old was directly behind me, his little legs sticking right into the back of my seat.
I remember thinking, oh no, this can't be good.
Much to my surprise all three kids were perfectly behaved, and there was barely a peep out of them the whole way. They were getting off in the D.C. area, so as we all stood up to disembark, I told the mom how impressed I was at how well-behaved the kids all were.
I was simply changing planes, but they were clearly headed someplace in D.C. so I asked them what they were going to do. The littlest one got all excited and said: "We're going to visit our daddy!"
But the older two clearly didn't share the younger one's excitement, and the oldest looked down at the floor with a very sad face. I remember the mom encouraging the middle one to explain further. "Tell the man what we are going to do."
With a very brave face, she explained: "Our dad is at Arlington Cemetery. We're going to visit his grave."
As I head out for this Memorial Day weekend I will remember the faces of these three children, perfectly behaved on the seats behind me. Those three kids and their loving Mom have made the ultimate sacrifice, too.*
*The photo at the top is NOT a photo of the three children who sat behind me that day. I found it googling "three kids sitting on a plane." These three children are just a bit younger than the ones who actually sat behind me, but not by much. I decided to use this picture in the hopes that it would instill the same visceral feeling I felt as I walked off the plane.