A local boy died in Afghanistan earlier this month. He was hardly a boy anymore. He was a man. I remember his photo, in the local paper, from back when he was in high school. He was just a kid. How could he grow up and go off to war and die? His remains came home today, escorted, with a mix of fierce protective pride, love and sadness. I did not know Cody, but his tragic death permeated my reclusiveness. I went to honor his sacrifice and family. When young people die, it's like stomping flowers.
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