Carrying One's Own

There is nothing like watching an Honor Guard in action, carrying the remains of a fallen comrade. As much as I hate seeing it, there is some level of comfort knowing that one's brethren care enough to perform that final duty, one of effort, sweat and sacrifice.

We just got our TV hooked up yesterday, after it spent the last several months in the garage, covered in plastic. As it was about dinner time, I switched on the news then continued what I was working on. A few minutes later I walked by the set and noticed a video of six officers from the City of Chino Police Department, bearing a flag-covered casket, carrying it from a church. The next shot was of the Chief of Police, eulogizing their fallen comrade and then that of a weeping family.

I stopped what I was doing, as I had heard nothing of an officer being killed or of one passing from other causes. I rewound the TV and started the segment over. It was then that I heard the story.

Their fallen comrade was a little boy, who had passed away from brain cancer. Prior to his death, he had been sworn in as an honorary police officer for the Chino Police Department. Apparently, his dream was to be a police officer when he grew up, a dream that was realized when he was seven years old, mere weeks before his death.

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The story aggravated my allergy condition, one that seems to get worse with age. I thought it touching enough to share with you, sad, yet uplifting in a way.

Strong work to the men and women of the Chino P.D, Ya done good yesterday.

Thanks for reading,
Schmoe