See, the service of all of these dedicated women were largely ignored by our government for a very long time. Indeed, recognition of Mabel's ultimate sacrifice for her country is overdue by 67 years.

Following her death, her friends had to pool their money to fly her casket from the Army base back to Mabel's home town for burial. Not only did the military not pay to transport caskets of female warriors, our government didn't offer to bury their remains either.

Only male pilots received such honors when they died.

No emissaries from the Air Force were dispatched to attend her service or see to the needs of Mabel's family. Without authorization or support for a "real" military service, local civilian and aviation groups nonetheless gave Mabel a homemade military funeral anyway. The Civil Air Patrol, the Boys Scouts, the Red Cross and others came in full uniform.

It was a somber but proud day for her hometown. No one really noticed that the Air Force was not present.

Mabel's name was never inscribed on war memorials alongside the names of the men who also gave their lives in service. Making matters even more difficult to comprehend, Mabel's records were sealed for decades. She endured overt discrimination while she served and even posthumously.

Although my grandmother, Mabel's mother, never really saw convincing evidence that her country fully valued her brave daughter's sacrifice, she never once complained. Not once. Though she would not be allowed to be a Gold Star Mother, nor would she receive survivor benefits normally paid to mothers of those who died in service, my grandmother accepted all of this with pure grace.

As a patriot and a mother, my grandmother knew who her daughter was and what she did. With that knowledge, she proudly held her head high, all the remaining days of her life.

I'll be walking into that ceremony carrying not just Mabel's legacy and life's history but also the love of those who knew her and those who have missed her all these many years.

Mabel's good friend and fellow Air Force fly girl, Bertha Link, who reverently brought my aunt's casket home, will also go with me in spirit this week. In my heart will be the love of my mother, my grandmother, my aunts and uncles and all those who died, before this day, not knowing for sure whether our nation would ever recognize our fallen hero's sacrifice.

Just as my grandmother did when she learned of her daughter's death that sad day in August 1943, I, too, will hold my head high.