My Take Tuesday: The Weight of Sacrifice

Each November, as the air turns crisp and the mountains put on their last display of autumn gold, I find myself reflecting on the quiet courage of those who have given more than most of us will ever comprehend. Veteran’s Day isn’t simply a day off work or a time for parades—it’s a deeply personal reminder of gratitude, sacrifice, and the high price of freedom.

A few years ago, I had the honor of walking through Arlington National Cemetery beside one of my dear friends, Seth Waite, a veteran whose quiet dignity spoke volumes. Together we followed the winding paths through rows of white headstones that seemed to stretch endlessly across the rolling green hills. Each one represented a life of service—someone’s child, someone’s love, someone’s friend. The sight of them all, perfectly aligned in solemn silence, filled me with both awe and humility. The marker labeled “OLD IRONSIDES” stands as a steadfast guardian of those who served with him in the Utah National Guard. A few short years ago, Seth completed his own remarkable service, retiring after a career of dedication and distinction.

As we walked, Seth shared moments from his own service—not boastfully, but with the steady perspective of someone who had seen both the weight and worth of duty. I could hear in his voice the deep bond he still carried for those who served beside him, and I could see in his eyes the quiet burden of memories that never fully fade. To walk beside him that day was to glimpse the very soul of sacrifice—not as an abstract idea, but as a living, breathing truth.

There’s something sacred about Arlington. It isn’t just a resting place; it’s a promise. Each headstone tells a story of courage, of love for country and for fellow citizens. As I stood there with Seth, I felt the air grow heavy with reverence. It wasn’t sorrow that pressed on my chest—it was gratitude. A deep, humbling awareness that every freedom I enjoy was secured by people willing to give everything they had, and sometimes everything they were.

As a veterinarian, I’ve dedicated my life to service in a different form—to care, compassion, and the preservation of life. But the men and women like Seth who wear the uniform remind me daily what true service means. It’s a calling that asks for sacrifice without expectation, and strength born not of glory, but of love.

Seth would never call himself a hero. But when I think of that day at Arlington—the rows of white stones, the stillness of the air, and my friend walking beside me in quiet reflection—I know that heroism doesn’t always announce itself. Sometimes, it walks beside you in silence, steady and humble.

This Veteran’s Day, I’m especially grateful—for Seth, for all who have served, and for the reminder that freedom is not inherited, but continually preserved through courage and compassion. May we live our lives in a way that honors their sacrifice—not only in word, but in the way we love, serve, and remember.

And that is My Take. 

N. Isaac Bott, DVM