The Headstone.

I've been in bed sick the last two days. I think I've caught a sinus infection or the flu. I hate going to the doctor, so I'm trying to postpone it as long as I can. Around 11am, I found the strength to get out of bed long enough to make myself a glass of water and while I stood in my kitchen drinking it, I noticed we had mail. So I stepped out into the cold rainy/snowy weather and got it from our mail box. A small card fell to the ground, with a simple note typed on the front, addressed to my husband. The few sentences read that our son's headstone had been placed at the cemetery and we were free to visit it. 

Although two minutes ago I was too sick to even make myself something for breakfast, I was suddenly running around the house like a mad woman trying to get everyone dressed. No matter how poorly I was feeling, my family was going to see that headstone. 

The pride I feel knowing my son has been buried in a veteran's cemetery is indescribable. He was a soldier who fought his own war. He won many battles and fought with the kind of strength that you only see once in a lifetime. He was the bravest of warriors. 

You can rest now my little soldier. Rest in the arms of our savior.