The brother of my grandmother was killed in the Ardennes Forest of France on the second eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month of 1918, the moment the armistice took effect. It took until 1921 for his body to be identified and returned home to Alva, Oklahoma. The town had some 6,000 residents, and from accounts and photos of the day, virtually all of them lined the streets as his horse drawn carriage traveled the streets to his funeral at the Lutheran Church. The church cemetery and neighboring fields were packed beyond capacity for his burial. One hundred years later his stone, in the shape of a heart, towers above all others. Thanking one for service is not enough, though what happened that day in 1921 went a long way for the family. Rest in peace and in the glory of heaven all who paid for our freedom with their lives.
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