Taps

I was looking at some of the writing I have done over the years, and decided to share one of my experiences.
I had the opportunity of singing in a choir at a cemetery for memorial day many years ago. This is what I experienced.....

May is a time for enjoying the beautiful flowers of springtime. It is also a time to remember our loved ones who have died for our country.

The morning is chilly, but crisp and beautiful, filled with a special feeling of quiet reverence. Time seems to stop as each of us are locked into our own private thoughts. An overwhelming feeling of pride fills my heart, as guns boom in succession. Each saluting our brave warriors for the battles they have fought in defense of our country.

Like lions roaring through a jungle after their prey, Jets in twin formation streak across the blue horizon. The rush of adrenalin and admiration sinks deep into my heart, reaching out to these giant men and women.

Old glory raises from half mask, rippling in the wind as it makes it's way to the top. Then slowly as in the memory of the dieing. It pauses.. turning back down to half-mask where it silently rests.

Our hearts swell with pride, mixed with grief as we enshrine the memories of all of our patriotic men and women. We rededicate our convictions to defend our freedom from Tyranny and dictators. We promise to protect the constitution and all other God given rights.

Our choir explodes with emotion and tenderness as we blend our voice in God Bless America. Salty wet tears well up in our eyes, ready to spill over.

Now it is quiet, almost ire. Each of us are in our own private battlefield, alone with many memories... Thinking of yesterday when our loved ones, barely old enough to play hide and seek, run through the grass, barefoot. Or my little boy sitting on my lap, running his fingers through my hair, declaring, "Mommy, I'll make you proud of me just wait and see!

Cherishing that moment, we dream of envisioning our children becoming boy scouts or girl scouts. Drifting on to the thoughts of high school, seeking their independence, leaving the nest for college.... THEN WAR! And before we get to that terrible scene, we are brought back to the real world with the sound of wailing bugles.



Four golden instruments, glistening in the early morning sun rise. Each wailing it's lonely cry as the taps get fainter with each note. In one corner the bugle cries, then echoed by it's counterpart, hundreds of yards away. The tears spill over like a gushing waterfall as I think of the many loved ones who have shed their blood for our country. As the last tap cries out, we bow our heads in deep reverence, thanking God for the many blessing we have, for these brave men and women, and for our wonderful country... Dear soldiers your scrifices will not be in vain!