Guilty, though not charged

When something breaks or is lost, I immediately feel guilty. Where this guilt came from, I don't know. I just know I always feel guilty. I remember when the Vietnam Memorial was opened in Washington, D.C., and Americans one and all told of their emotional reaction to the Wall, I wondered if I would be emotionally moved and, if not, was I warped? That was in 1989, and that year that I had a chance to visit Washington and determined to find my way to the Memorial, which I did. As I approached the area, I remember the apprehension I felt, fearing that I might be found lacking in emotional response to what others had so easily found moving. Then, there it was -- the wall of names, stretching on and on. All names of men and women who had given their life to insure my freedom, freedom to feel an emotional contact but also the freedom to feel nothing. But I didn't feel nothing. I felt tears well up in my eyes, and I thanked God for my ability to feel love and honor for these dead heroes.