The entire family sought out historic sites in and around Washington D.C., including Arlington, Virginia, where the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier rests. Signs requested silence and I am ever so grateful for the peace those instructions provided.
My daughters watched the Changing of the Guard ceremony with quiet reverence. Immediately afterward, we were lucky enough to witness two wreath ceremonies with our rights hands covering our hearts. There are few moments more profound than a bugle playing the taps.
Damon and I spoke of our grandfathers who'd served but weren't around to tell their stories. We'd already visited and paid our respects to several other war memorials but a living, breathing soul performing for the unknown adds an unfathomable depth.
Not one, but two separate funerals were held that day in the sacred cemetery. It was a gentle reminder of our mortality and the cost of our freedom.
We paid tribute to the Eternal Flame and other past presidents. The greatest moments followed us, blossoming again each time one of my daughter's asked another poignant question. Their begging for understanding reminded me of all that I have, not just in this country but in my life.