Last week, I was fortunate enough to travel with dozens of other SLU students to Washington, D.C., for the pro-life march. It was my sixth time enduring the grueling 16-hour bus ride and marching around in the cold for hours, simply to let our government know where I stand on the abortion issue. Having gone so many times before, I thought I knew exactly what would happen and expected nothing more. But strangely enough, sight-seeing around D.C. provided me with a greater understanding of the pro-life issue than the march did.Our first day, a small group of us took the metro to Arlington National Cemetery to visit the popular sights, like the Tomb of the Unknown Solider and JFK’s grave. It was a gorgeous day, and we took advantage of the nice weather by roaming among the white, perfectly aligned tombstones for a few hours. The dates on the stones ranged back to wars fought by our grandparents, and even earlier.Then we hit Section 60: the new burials. More white nameplates protruded from the ground with names and dates describing lives and deaths of people I would never meet, whose families I would never know.The last three rows of tombstones still held the uniform white stone, only each stood over a perimeter of earth, the rectangular shape of caskets not yet covered completely with grass.The dates weren’t so far away anymore. Born 1979. Died 2005. Born 1980. Died 2005. Born 1986. Died 2005. I paused at the last one. This kid was the same age as my younger brother: only 19 years old. The final grave that I saw did not have a tombstone, just a small green stand holding a card. I could not even see the perimeter marking of the casket because dozens of flowers cascaded over the mud. This one had died 15 days ago; he was 18 years old. I noticed two figures walking down the row of new tombs. The woman put a bouquet of red flowers by a grave, while the man rubbed her shoulder and then guided her away. Every person in the group kept her head down to avoid eye contact with this grieving pair. I felt like a tourist at a funeral. These people just lost a son or a brother or a nephew or a friend, and we were roaming around his grave on a sight seeing tour.As our group walked back from Section 60, the solemn silence summed up our overall feeling: sadness. I thought of all my friends who were back in St. Louis, of how they would react to the situation I was in. Anyone would have been affected by it. Even the cruelest person I can fathom could not have looked upon the graves of such young men and not been stirred in some way.The day at Arlington Cemetery taught me more about pro-life than the march did. The past six years I had been too caught up in the excitement of political protest to realize the true meaning of the term. By experiencing grief at the loss of life, as well at witnessing it in others, I realized that being pro-life is more than the simple issue of abortion; it encompasses all areas concerning human life, whether it be war, the homeless, the disabled, the unborn, or even criminals. Being pro-life is also not limited to one type of person. The religious and political overtones of so many pro-life events and people can be a turnoff to those with no interest or opposing ideologies. Any moral truth should not be obvious to only those of a certain faith or school or thought. It should be derived from finding common ground that underscores our collective human emotion in experiencing sorrow for the loss of life.Whether we are Christians or atheists, our hearts go out to a scared, pregnant woman.Whether we are Democrats or Republicans, we can feel sadness for the grieving families of war victims.Compassion and empathy are emotions we all share as human beings. Whether or not one wants to accept the label “pro-life,” we cannot deny that we each share in some part of honoring the sanctity of life. Nicole Trafton is a senior in the college of Arts and Sciences