Everyday of my life I am proud and honored to call myself an American Citizen. I am, simply because od the fact that we are free. Men died so that the ones who share their country after them could have the freedom they longed for. We are America; we are the land of the free and the home of the brave.

The day I was most proud to call my home America, was the day of my grandfather’s funeral. My grandfather served in the Navy and United States Army for eight proud, devoted years. The day of his funeral they saluted him with honor by gunfire to signify a fallen comrade. With each round of volleys, my heart broke a little more as tears streamed down my face. The traditional folding of the flag followed after that, which the officers gave to my grandmother to honor my grandfather. When they handed my grandma the flag my heart dropped, because I knew nothing I could say would make it alright. I just held her, and prayed for the best. I was sad, but I knew I could never truly understand what my grandmother was going through.

I remember that day and the emotions of sadness swirling around me. As the gunfire went off I remember turning to look at the rest of my family; tears filled everyone’s eyes. Tears welled in my eyes as well, but not from sadness, but because of pride. I was proud of our American way; proud that since my grandfather had served his country he would now be given the proper fair well, and especially proud to say that Heriberto C. had served his country and he was my grandfather.