Memorial Day Thoughts

I had once volunteered to help spruce up the graves of veterans before Memorial Day. It was a beautifully sunny day and a cool breeze ruffled the grass in the shadows of the tall trees. With the help of the little map, I quickly found my assigned area. I stepped out of the truck and saw hundreds of colorful potted flowers waiting to be planted three to a marker.

At each new site, I would read the inscription to learn more about that person. As I fought with stubborn weeds to make way for the new flowers, I found myself tracing around the Born and Died dates with my index finger. I smiled when the dates showed a man surviving a war and living on to eighty or ninety years of age. The ones which saddened me were those with a death date corresponding to war years; young sons and husbands who did not return to continue on. The short two-date summation of their lives drove me deep into thought as I troweled away. There was my Uncle Bob whose B-17 was shot down in Europe, Uncle George and Uncle Gordie who charged ashore from landing craft on D-Day, Uncle Hank whose navy ship was torpedoed off the coast of France. Only one did not make it back home to us. I also remembered the drawn, weary faces of the WW1 veterans from my visit to a VA hospital, those who had already been hospitalized for fifty years from mustard gas attacks upon their trenches. You can't forget those faces, you can't help but be overwhelmed by the immensity of their sacrifices. By now, time had claimed all these stalwart old soldiers and they all seemed to join me now in this quiet little cemetery and I lost it just as I did the day they played taps by my father's grave.

And this weekend I insist on celebrating the survivors as well as the fallen. To Jim who survived the med-evac chopper runs in Nam, to Red who survived the downing of his B52 and his POW time in Hanoi. Jim, you've been a loyal friend all these years - long after others deserted the ship and, Red, you have been the brother I always wanted most in my heart. And to my newly found blog friends, Bruno and Catmoves, too. I was the one most blessed when God chose to bring you home from war and I know that I am not the only one who feels that way. Remain strong, fight the dragons to the end, and know that you are always loved and honored.

I have received lovely comments on this particular post but I will be holding back comments from being published. It just seems right somehow.