Last week, while traveling to Chicago on business, I noticed a Marine Sergeant traveling with a folded flag, but did not put two and two together. After we boarded our flight, I turned to the sergeant, who’d been invited to sit in First Class (across from me), and inquired if he was heading home. No, he responded. Heading out, I asked. No, I am escorting a soldier home. Going to pick him up? No. He is with me right now. He was killed in Iraq. I’m taking him home to his family. The realization of what he had been asked to do hit me like a punch to the gut. It was an honor for him. He told me that, although he didn’t know the soldier, he had delivered the news of his passing to the soldier’s family and felt as if he knew them after many conversations in so few days. I turned back to him, extended my hand, and said thank you. Thank you for doing what you do so my family can do what we do.