A dozen years ago we laid our father to rest at Ft. Rosecrans National Cemetery in San Diego County. It was flag day. The winds were gusty and the sun was shining brilliantly as hundreds of flags flapped in uniform formation. We placed dad's custom urn, hand-crafted by my brother-in-law, in his new permanent home overlooking the ocean and said a closing prayer. Then it happened – the winds kicked in to high gear and propelled the main cemetery flag from it's usual half-mast position all the way to the top of the flag pole. I call it a "God-incidence." The timing appeared super-natural. It was an exclamation point added at the end of an extraordinary day celebrating our dad's life.
My brother-in-law erected a flag pole in the front yard of his Ramona home where dad spent his final thirty-five days. Dad's military flag from his funeral flies there on special occasions, like Flag Day. I will always remember the great men and women who gave their lives so that our flag may fly today and I will never forget the sacrifices both my parents made to raise a family of six children.
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