Fallen Hero....

Was it last night? Perhaps two days ago when I caught a two minute segment of the news announcing that another young American solider had been killed in Iraq. The Freedom Riders (?) a group of motorcyclist rode to his home to show support.

What captured my attention was first, the he was just a boy in my eyes... 26... but one year older than my first son. Secondly, that he was from Northampton, the town in which I work, just a few miles from where I live.

For the first time this war hit close to home. I couldn't help but wonder if my boys might have known him. And my God, what his mother must be feeling.

Today I hopped in my car to run a quick errand that took me to a little strip mall at Frank's Corner... When I came out of the shop I heard the rumble of the bikes, too many to count. Initially I thought, "what a great day for a ride" and glanced in the direction they were headed. At the corner there was a police car stopping traffic so that they might get through without interruption. My thoughts again went to the ride... it must be special of some sort... but nothing registered.

It was then that I started to watch the long line of motorcycles. I got into my car which was facing the road. As I started the car and headed to the exit of the lot the song Freebird came on the oldies station that was dialed in. Once I reached the exit I had time to start processing everything I was seeing. Behind the motorcycles were cars, many of which had American flags attached to their windows, everyone's lights and flashers were on.... and then came the fire truck draped in black and purple and I realized that I was witness to a funeral procession. And then it became clear as to who's procession I was in witness thereof.

I put my car in park and watched in awe... and in time found myself sobbing. I did not see the hearse, the family as it followed or the beginning of the bikes... but the portion I did see lasted the entire length of the song. It's a ten minute song. The words of which could not have been more appropriate for the occasion. I was no more able to turn off the radio than to stop the line of cars in front of me. All I could do was wipe away the tears that came freely.



Without a doubt I was witness to the procession of the fallen hero from Northampton. May his family be comforted by the outpouring of love on his behalf.

As I pulled out onto the road I glanced over at the strip mall. People had come out of the shops to also bear witness. I cannot imagine that anyone who bore witness to this event was not moved deeply, if not to tears.

May God welcome him with open arms and surround those left behind.

Let this not be another forgotten war. Bring them home. Safe.