06-04-2014, 02:26 AM
I’ve hidden this photo for thirteen years.
The day I took it was full of excitement, of celebration, of pride. The day of the dedication of the National D-Day Memorial in Bedford, Virginia, June 6, 2001.
Bedford had been a flurry of activity in the weeks prior to the event in preparation for dignitaries near and far. Presidents, Ambassadors, the remaining D-Day soldiers…Our community nearly burst with pride.
My husband and I scheduled the day off from work to attend, dragging along our two young daughters. We were sure they’d remember this historic event and someday, feel honor they’d attended.
They only remember the heat. The scorching 90-degree temps in the unforgiving Virginia sun, attendees passing out due to heat exhaustion and dehydration.
What I remember is this photo.
I was walking amidst the crowd, snapping innumerable photos of anything and everything—the camera crews, the bronze sculptures, the Missing Man Formation flyover—when I spotted this soldier sobbing.
Here was emotion, raw and unabashed…until his seatmate noticed me snapping the photo, nudged the soldier, and the moment abruptly ended in uncomfortable silence.
I nearly deleted the photo in front of him, then and there. I felt ashamed for the intrusion. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it, and I scurried away.
I’ve hidden this photo for thirteen years, and it’s haunted me often. Now, with the 70th anniversary of the Normandy invasion, I feel compelled to share it.
I don’t know who you are, soldier, or what moved you at this moment, but I just want to say…thank you.