Jonathan Richardson remembered

I met him only a couple times at family gatherings.

Technically speaking, he was my step-nephew. My daddy married his grandma 12 years ago after we lost momma to lung cancer.

Last Tuesday he was warming his hands by the fire at the Army Base in Khost, Afghanistan, when a Taliban suicide bomber dressed as an Afghan Police officer walked up and pulled the ripcord on his bomb vest, ending the lives of Jonathan and his best friend... two more American Soldiers in their mid twenties who joined the growing number of Americans killed in action in operation Enduring Freedom.

Jonathan leaves behind a wife and a momma and brother.

He was a decorated Soldier who died way to young in a place which is, by definition, God-forsaken.

I am not politically active anymore. And this is not the time or place to rant about the 'why'...

I simply want to honor Jonathan: another hero who came home from this war to be buried and remembered.

You are missed here, my young friend. terribly missed.

I know the angels are celebrating your arrival there. And from that we will gain peace.

God Bless

what goodbye looks like

I saw what a 70 year goodbye looks like yesterday.

After the mourners paid their respects and made their exit, it was just the family.

and after the nieces and nephews and cousins and son and daughter said their farewell, it was Jimmy's turn.

'til death do us part.

it takes on a new meaning when you watch a broken man say goodbye to the only love he ever knew.

The music had long since stopped playing...

and finally it was just this frail old beautiful man... touching the face and hands of his beloved best friend. Sobbing openly and loudly... pouring out the contents of his heart. Bidding farewell to his bride of almost 70 years.

It was a very sobering and lovely moment.

And if I live to be 120 years old, I will never forget it.