My husband's burial flag sits on top of a bookshelf in a plastic-zippered case, neatly folded just as it was given to me at his funeral. In memory of my husband, James Hatton, I take it down on Memorial Day. I remove it from the case and feel the tightly woven fabric with its embroidered white stars.
My flag is one that money did not buy, yet it was obtained at a high price. My husband, a decorated Army paratrooper for the 101st Airborne Division, died of cancer in 1991. The herbicide Agent Orange, which was sprayed during the Vietnam War, played a role in his death. He served in Vietnam from 1966-68.
The flag covered his casket and was removed in a special ceremony in which a military color guard folded it into a compact triangle. A trumpeter played taps, and a three-volley rifle salute followed. One of the color guard members presented the flag to me on behalf of the president of the United States.
It's a ritual military families know so well.
I felt a sense of pride that day and a great love for my country because of this sacred symbol of democracy. Memorial Day always reminds me that the flag was given to me and other military families to show the special place of honor our country has for veterans.
Before my husband was lowered into the cold, dark grave, his flag was a final covering of love from his country, like a warm blanket at bedtime to say, "Goodnight." All of the honor that flag represents was transferred to him. The red represents courage, the white purity of purpose, the blue suggests loyalty and unity.
Every veteran, whether he or she was a private or a four-star general, receives the same burial flag. Race, creed, color, gender or political preference matter not. The flag truly represents our nation - one nation.
In the Iraq war, more than 1,630 soldiers have died, and surely more will fall before the fighting ends. Each soldier's casket is covered with a burial flag that is then given to his or her next of kin.
On Memorial Day, as we see flags at memorials from Arlington National Cemetery to small-town cemeteries and courthouses across the USA, know that veterans' families offer many of these flags as a final salute.
I've come to realize my husband would not want his flag tucked away on a bookshelf. He would want his flag to wave in the breeze and for all of its colors to unfurl in a magnificent display. I've decided not to put his flag back on the shelf; I will donate it for local memorial services. This Memorial Day, I will let his flag go free.
Lois Hatton is a columnist and inspirational speaker who lives in Brookings, S.D.
