It was an ordinary day in the airport concourse. Things were busy, made even a little more so, by this particular gate being nearer the center of the octopus tentacles. The usual cacophony of sounds, ones that our ancestry would have found immensely disturbing, were turned into normalcy by the familiar drudge of hurry, worry, hustle and wait; if this plane won’t budge, what will be my connection’s fate?

With time to waste, I was milling about, though the queue was beginning and sorting itself out.

The quiet descended, rather suddenly. What had turned heads, in the simple notice of a change, suddenly became powerful. Airports are never this way; something very unusual was up.

In the absence of noise, movement started to slow. The people who were sitting began to stand. What was before isolated individuals, began to recognize the emotions in each other, a skill that had been suspended for a period of time. Had the concourse been a ship, the place would’ve started to list.  Even the gate attendants had taken notice. One could see their confusion, “What should we do?” was written on their faces as they looked across the aisle at each other, from one gate to another. I instantly had a wish, they must have had it too, they stopped their announcements – those can wait a moment or two. The only remaining sounds were the gates far away, not very loud, as if to give some respect our way.

All eyes were gazing outside the glass. The workers on the tarmac had stopped what they were doing.  From the cargo door of the plane I was about to board, strung two lines of soldiers, solemn and sharp. They slowly walked out a casket, covered in an American flag. At the end of that line, were two parents, younger than myself, perhaps a sister or two, or one and a wife. They looked somewhat numb, or who really knows where their heads might be, except for possibly, those who might have been there before. The soldiers carefully folded the flag, neatly and tight, then they handed it to the family, with very much respect. The soldiers slid the casket into the waiting hearse, then held the doors to another car, thus bringing this snippet of tribute to a close.

Back inside, behind the glass, we were not neat and sharp, yet there we were, motionless and silent, a few stood, in full salute, but most just looked, without a word. I can not fathom how any words could have felt this deep. I was careful not to look left or right, for it touched me deeply. I did not want people to see me cry, though perhaps there might not have been another dry eye. 

I wish the family had known, but who knows if it would’ve helped, yet I still wished that they were aware, just how much compassion was looking down from above.