I have a 24 year-old nephew who is a Green Beret. I don’t know where he is at the moment, and neither does his young wife, or my sister – his mom, or his dad. All we know is that he’s following orders, and hopefully, his actions will contribute to the cause we’re fighting for somewhere in the world.

My cousin has a 24 year-old son in the Marines. In January, this young man returned home from a tour in Afghanistan with only half his unit. One of them was female – and he said she was the toughest, smartest, and most agile of them all. Gone.

Today, all over America, appreciative fellow citizens will be placing flowers on the graves of loved ones who died during military service. Whether or not I believed in the “rightness” of any of these wars, I grieve the loss of these mostly young lives. I think of their parents, siblings, and loved ones and wonder how they manage to survive their loss.

What a world, right?

If you’re out and about today, remember the little poem written by Moina Belle Michael the “Poppy Lady.”

We cherish too, the Poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led,
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies.