Seeber read his prepared text — which is identical for all the graves they visit — and then it was time for taps. In a perfect rendition by Omtvedt, the song, brief but with sorrowful familiarity, triggered tears in many of those gathered, including Charlie Thompson, a usually jolly man, who hopes no one forgets how brave his son was.

Army 1st Lt. Michael J. Fasnacht

“Michael Fasnacht, U.S. Army, 25 years old,” Seeber announces to those gathered at St. Ann’s Cemetery. Died June 8, 2005. We thank you for your service. We thank you for your sacrifice. We will remember you.”

His grave sits under a pine tree in one of the most rural cemeteries you’ll ever see. In rural Janesville, it is surrounded by farm fields and a dirt road, and full of head stones that date back more than 150 years.

Directly above his headstone, dangling from a branch are a set of wind chimes and an American flag.

Like Charlie Thompson, Marny Fasnacht yearns for the survival of her son’s memory. And Seeber says that’s the common thread. No matter how unique the settings, the families always express gratitude toward an effort designed to commemorate their loved one’s ultimate sacrifice.

“The one thing they want is to be sure that no one forgets,” Seeber said as he prepared to head to the next salute in Albert Lea. “For some folks, the cards and letters start tapering off. Apparently some people have forgotten. We want to make sure that does not happen.”

When taps plays in Janesville, Raymond Fasnacht salutes while Marny places her hand over her heart. Others do the same. Overhead, the wind picks up. Flags ripple a little harder. The sound of the air being forced through the full branches of pine and cottonwood trees is like backing vocals for one of the saddest songs imaginable.

“It’s hard to put into words,” Marny Fasnacht said. “It really touches my heart in a strong way ... To have all of these (Patriot Guard riders) here — that tells me he will not be forgotten.

For Fasnacht, it has gotten a little easier. She said she’s gone from focusing on the fact that her son is gone, to focusing on the thought that she’ll be with him again someday.

While visiting with people after the ceremony, Fasnacht paused and said she wanted to watch as the Patriot Guard members on their Harleys pulled out of the cemetery.

Her attention to them was broken only when, after 30 seconds or so, she noticed that a framed portrait of her son had been bumped from its perch and was in danger of falling from an easel.

She hurried over to the easel, asked a friend to rescue the framed picture, and gave the rest of the grave site a quick once over to make sure everything was in place.

Said Fasnacht, “I like to make sure it looks nice.”