As I walk across the frozen ground I am in awe of the site before me.Rows upon rows of white crosses and star of Davids dominate the landscape. I walk to what could be called a reunion of sorts.
All my life I was told of the story of my grandfather,the father of four who went to Europe to fight the good fight. I was always at a loss for words when ever I saw his medals and the flag that was sent to my grandmother.My aunts and uncle always wanted to travel over seas to see his grave site but the opportunity never presented itself.Today was the day that one of his descendants would visit his resting place.
As I come to the gates of Henri Chappelle cemetery I walk to a greeter who is seated in the lobby.She is a very nice Belgian lady who ask me if i have relatives here and if she could help.I give her my grandfather`s name and she looks up his location.Then we walk outside.It is a cold and windy day.Much like it may have felt the day he fell. We exchange pleasantries until we come to his grave site. She places an American flag by his tombstone and rubs sand from Omaha beach across his name.She does this for his name to stand out.Then she looks at me smiles and walks away.For the moment I am speechless. What do I say? What can I say? Then it comes to me.My aunt who was his last surviving child passed away while I was in Europe.His family is finally reunited after 60 years apart. I look upon this as a family reunion and I smile.
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