“I recall the experience sweet and sad. . .” ~Walt Whitman
I couldn’t help thinking about all the mothers. About the sisters. About the wives, partners, and girlfriends. Yes, without a doubt, there were men who mourned. And in fact they bore the brunt of the eyewitnessed sorrow.
But for these moments, I thought about the women who, though not on the battlefield, necessarily were victims of the battle too.
I couldn’t help feeling those feelings. The watchful days. Clocks ticking off the hours. Yellow ribbons dancing in the breeze. The waiting and wondering. The trying to breathe.
The prayers across the ages, for the Watch was one known intimately by generations past and future.
The strength required of them. The going-on. The day after year after decade beyond.