150 years ago at this time, the American Civil War was all but over, General Lee having surrendered to General Grant just a few days prior to this date. The Union, it seemed, was saved. Years of bloodshed that tore the nation, states, communities, and even families apart were finally and completely behind.
A sigh of relief.
A chance to relax, even if just a little.
Our American Cousin.
Someone still fighting, and a single shot.
Is it strange that I am in mourning today? Two hours from right now will mark exactly 150 years since the discharge of a pistol was heard in Ford’s Theatre. It will mark a beginning of Abraham Lincoln’s final night in this world. By mid-morning he would be no more.
Yet he lives today.
I have been to Ford’s, the White House in which Lincoln served the nation, statehouse where he served the people of Illinois, and his home in Springfield. I have been to his grave. I have walked through reproductions of his early life and childhood. I feel like I knew him.
Is it strange?