My husband Earl was trying to cover my ears. His own hands were shaking too hard to help.
The chaplain kept trying to speak. Every time he opened his mouth, those people screamed louder.
I remember thinking, this is the last thing Daniel will ever hear. Not his mama’s voice. Not “Taps.” Just hate.
I closed my eyes and asked God why. What my boy did to deserve this on the day we put him in the ground.
Then I heard the engines.
I thought more of them were coming. I thought they were bringing trucks. I prayed the ground would open up and swallow me before it got any worse.
Earl whispered, “Margaret. Open your eyes.”
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