Under gray, somber skies, a solemn melody carried across the hills of the Onondaga County Veterans Memorial Cemetery.
The haunting notes of bagpipes playing “Amazing Grace” echoed through the grounds on Monday morning, drawing a crowd of more than one hundred veterans, Gold Star families, and community members together for the county’s annual Memorial Day ceremony.
They came to honor the men and women who courageously stepped forth in the name of the nation, and who never made it home.
As the music faded into the damp air, the crowd fell silent at the cemetery’s overlook. Two local veterans bowed their heads as three sharp rifle volleys rang out across the valley, one each for duty, honor, and country.
Among the crowd were Mike LaNassa and Dan DiFlorio, two Vietnam War veterans who stood with hats in hand. For them, the day is about honoring their fallen peers, but it is also about watching the torch being passed to a new generation.
“The older we get, we see all these young ones coming out, which is great," LaNassa said, gesturing to the families scattered among the cemetary. "I like to see the younger veterans… they're picking up where we left off.”
For other veterans in attendance, that younger generation has already paid the ultimate price.
Vietnam veteran Ed McLaughlin stood near the edge of the crowd.
“My son, who is a Navy veteran, is buried in Section J.”
His son, Owen McLaughlin, passed away in 2020 after serving a six-year tenure in the U.S. military.
For the elder McLaughlin, Memorial Day is a deeply personal intersection of past and present grief. He hopes the public understands that the sacrifices of military families are made daily, long after the wars themselves have ended.
"I think of my son. I think of my companions that I lost in Vietnam. I think of their families," McLaughlin said. "And the ones who came back, some with PTSD, some with Agent Orange.”
He paused with tears in his eyes, “All we can do is put all of this in God's hands.”
As the ceremony wound down, the distinct, lonely notes of “Taps” began to play.
One attendee paused, his eyes drifted longingly across the sprawling cemetery grounds.
“My mother and father are out there,” the man said, his voice cracking with sudden emotion. “Both... they both served in World War II. Sorry. But yeah…”
He walked away before he could say his name. He didn't need to finish the sentence.
For every family carrying the heavy weight of loss this Memorial Day, the rows of flag markers above each grave represent mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters.
As “Taps” faded out into the gray afternoon afternoon, the crowd slowly dispersed, leaving behind a quiet hillside of service and sacrifice.
