From my post at carpool this morning, I saw dozens and dozens of police vehicles lining up, florist van after florist van delivering flower arrangements, and many officers practicing formations.

From my window, I can see black tinted vehicles, official looking men in black suits, media vans, helicopters hovering and gawkers galore.

From my desk, I can hear a large brass bell clanging over and over again, signifying the life and death of an American Hero.

From my heart, I feel pain for a family as they try to mourn the loss of their own personal hero amidst a flurry of politically charged activity.

Suddenly, the fact that I had to park across the street to accommodate a funeral seems insignificant. So utterly insignificant that I am ashamed I ever even considered myself as being put out.


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