My shoulders shake and tears uncontrollably race down my cheeks as the Fort Hood, T.X., memorial service begins. The bagpipes start their cries, and the President and First Lady walk down the steps. It is the silence leading up to the bagpipes, and the sights of wounded soldiers taking their seats that makes the music so powerful.
Moments earlier, I read an email from my uncle in S.C. about the many family members that served our country since tomorrow is Veteran's Day. My grandmother is at her house, resting quietly as she grows weaker and weaker with age. The many wounded and mourning families in Fort Hood, T.X., take their seats and the bagpipes begin to play. The weight of it all finds its sweet release, and my tears can no longer be restrained.
I'm sitting in a waiting room shedding tear after tear. All of the moments of this life, and those lives that came before mine, seem to pause in the air around me and reveal how truly connected they all are. My life. The lives of my family members. The lives of strangers in Fort Hood, T.X., and their families.
One of my cast members states in his interview that we are all connected. He states that everyone is someone's cousin. We are all family, when it comes down to it. This brings me comfort as I weep over the loss of people whom I have never met.
My heart is with them.
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