Remember Those Who’ve Lost So Much

It was late July in the wheatland community of Ritzville. Grandma and I had taken the 30-minute drive to town to get a needed machine part for the tractor.

We always passed the cemetery on our way home.

But this time, we were slowed by a procession of vehicles following a black hearse. American flags lined the cemetery fence.

Grandma pulled the car over and simply said, “We need to get out.”

Leaving the comfort of our air-conditioned car on a 95-degree day wasn’t something I felt like doing, but Grandma’s somber expression told me not to complain.

I noticed other cars pulling over and people stepping outside too.

We stood outside the cemetery fence, watching the cars come to a stop near a small canopy that gave the family some shade as pallbearers carried the heavy, flag-draped casket toward them.

No one spoke. We watched in silence.

I was too far away to see much, but I noticed a young girl about my age standing beside her parents.

As we turned to go back to the car, Grandma put her finger to her lips, signaling for me to remain silent.

We were miles away from the cemetery when she finally said a local boy had been killed in Vietnam.

A local boy.

That thought made me ache for the family—for that young sister, for the mother and father who had hoped for their son’s future.

Grandma knew about wars. She also knew those who had lost loved ones.

After we got back to the ranch, Grandma said, “Always remember those who’ve lost so much.”

This Memorial Day, I do.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18