They instinctively joined hands as their son and granddaughter approached.
“Ah, look at them,” she said. “She’s adorable!”
“She’s growing up fast,” he added.
“I really wish we could go home with them this year,” she said, her voice cracking.
“Me too,” he sighed.
They knew the hardest part was next, as their son lifted his daughter to trace the names etched in bronze of grandparents she’d never met.
In twenty-two years, their DNA had not matched any recovered remains. So, they, and the souls of more than a thousand others, continue to walk these hallowed grounds, longing to go home.