Last summer, Carrie and I traveled to Hawaii. One of the highpoints of our trip was our morning at Pearl Harbor. I had visited the site 25 years ago, and I couldn’t wait to share the experience with Carrie. All these years later, and now being the mother of a veteran – it bothered me more this time. It meant more to me this time.
We picked up our tickets for the specified shuttle out to the memorial and then spent a little time wandering through the gift shop and visiting the exhibits. As we came around the corner, we saw a small group of people gathered around a table and as we approached, we saw this sign.
We soon learned that one morning each week, a small group of survivors come to the site for one hour and meet with visitors and sign autographs. Each of them had a copy of their bio, along with what they doing that morning.
These men had to all be in their 90’s. I asked one of them, how many survivors were left on the island. He told me, but he said that only a handful of them were physically able to make this weekly visit.
I wanted so badly to give him a hug. I told him that I was the mother of a veteran of the war in Iraq, and he immediately wrote a message of “thanks” on his bio sheet for my son. Sixty years divided them in age, but they were linked by something greater.