These Chairs

What you see, are 10 empty chairs.  At this point there is no explanation, they are just 10 empty chairs.  And without further explanation, they remain 10 empty chairs.

But, there are a minimum of 60 women that will beg to differ.  These chairs are not empty, they are full.  Six to a chair, if not more.  This simple row of chairs is overflowing, standing room only doesn't begin to describe the emotion.  And not one of those attempting to occupy these chairs is concerned with actually sitting.  They just want to be there.

These 10 chairs...

They are for a funeral. 

And while WE can not be there physically.  We are there in spirit.

A friend lost her husband to War.  He was a medic, he was in combat to help others.  Not just our own, but those fighting us as well.  He went out to save lives, didn't matter whose life it was.  His goal was to save it.  Even if it cost him his own. 

And it did.

These 10 chairs represent the families who serve side by side, day after day, knowing the value of what could be lost.  These 10 chairs represent the true value of what it means to be an American.  They are not fancy, not even close to being comfortable.  But they are tried and they are true, and they stand strong to support us all.

These 10 chairs represent the spirits of families, friends and patriots.  They hold the memories, experiences, and the fears of those who carry the same burdens in their hearts.  The sacrifice that comes with these chairs is heavy and real. 

These aren't just chairs.

This is a repost from last year.  Not a day goes by that I do not think of my dear friend and her family, and the sacrifice that her husband and many others have made for us.  This post is in memory of SSG Brian Cowdrey and all who have paid the ultimate price.