Paul wrote in Corinthians, Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?... Here. Its here in the hearts of the family that lost a son, a husband, a nephew, a cousin, a friend. Not a victory, but there is a sting. I miss my cousin. I sat with the cousins today and he wasnt there. Anthony Scardino was just... missing... He wasnt out being a hero, like one Christmas. He wasnt visiting inlaws, like some of us have during a Christmas or a 4th of July. He wasnt studying for finals, or too broke to make the trip, like happened to me a couple of times.... He just wasnt there. But the sting was. Riding in the van yesterday, back from the airport, I started reflecting on what Id been thinking about. And it was more about what Id seen more than anything else. None of us had or have words, so there was nothing to hear. None of us had the touch of my littlest cousins curly red hair that became a supposedly tough Army Guy haircut, or a hug to make his brother feel awkward, or a hand to hold during times where your husband should be there, so there was no touch. But there was a lot to see over the last few days. I wont remember my cousin for his death, because he crammed a lot of life in the life he had; way too much for his death to overtake what he achieved. But if I do think about the last few days in the years to come, there are a few things Ill see. I see you, family and friends. We poured love on each other as much as possible, hoping to dull the loss. I see you, Delta Airlines. The military couldnt transport my cousins body to his wife and family, so you did. And you did it in time for a funeral that was as full as Id have expected for a man like Anthony. I see you, TSA. You make Kim throw away her expensive lotion and shampoo, for fear they may have had bomb making materials in them. But you lined up and cared for the most precious cargo I could imagine, and you sweated with us, and you stood there; no training in grief counseling, or military protocol, or possibly any experience of this sort whatsoever. But I see you standing with us. And I see you crying with us, as if he were your own. I see you, men of the National Guard from all over the state. I see you treat my cousin like hes your brother, which I see that he truly was. I see you comfort his wife, and his mother, and his brother, and I see you, grown men who fight for me, cry like me. And I love you for it. I see you firefighters and highway patrol. You take your afternoon and escort us, or stop at lights for us, or just simply stand in solidarity, in the hot Mississippi afternoon, all for a man you didnt know. But you wouldve liked him. And I see you for it. I see you, an aunt who acts as a mother. And I love you without knowing you. I see you, strangers who pull over their cars, in observance of our grief. I see you, men of the 2nd Battalion, 20th Special Forces. And I feel honored to be family to one of your brothers, and honored to be in the same country as men like you. I dont see you, Westboro Baptist Church. I didnt see your email, but I heard your threat. I hope I would have forgiven you. Anthony might have simply laughed at you, until he thought you were hurting his wife. But I dont see you. Because youre not memorable. Not like him. I see you, riders. You escort us on your motorcycles, flags held high, patriotism worn openly, tears flowing freely. And I see you Anthony. At peace, with our God. Waiting patiently for a family reunion. And I love you. And I miss you.
Posted on: Sun, 17 Aug 2014 03:01:19 +0000
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