MEMORIAL DAY — A Time to Honor the Fallen

How did I get here? Is this a celebration of sacrificial death or sacrificial death so we can celebrate? It’s a sacrifice I can’t forget — nor will I. But it seems, as I look around, it has been. Or was it ever known?

Is this country more interested in stimulating their own bodies than honoring the ones sacrificed for them? The media focus more on slander, banter, and parties. But why turn the child’s head to the blood — flood them with the horrible reality of our freedom?

Eat your hamburger and drink your drink. It was paid for. Hold them in your heart but celebrate your freedom. Remember all who gave it to you. I know I will.

Remember the men and women who hand their lives to strangers to live. Soldiers who die away from their home, their families.

Remember the pain endured by the brothers and sisters tossing and turning from the intrusive thoughts. Waiting for a phone call to hear their voice but also just to know they are alive — never to receive it.

Remember the men and woman whose life purpose was to give you that drink. Was it worth it? Did you give them a reason to earn it? Could you give them a moment?

Could you give a moment to send prayers and thoughts to the mothers and fathers who are left only with memories of their child — a child from infancy bound to serve a country because his life was bigger than he could imagine. A life so big it exploded.

Eyes full of tears — each one that rolls and falls representing a fallen soldier. They return home to their peaceful resting place. Peace is what they were fighting for.

So honor them — bow your head. It’s okay to celebrate but don’t forget what today means to those who are directly affected.

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2 thoughts on “MEMORIAL DAY — A Time to Honor the Fallen

  1. My older brother was in the army overseas for five years. It’s hard for me to think in such proportions because I remember being terrified for his safety simultaneously watching my mother slip into a deep depression and lock herself in her room. I understand the enormous sacrifices and I thank God every day that my brother wasn’t part of those statistics.

    I purposely didn’t tell statistical things because of the people directly affected by it. I didn’t lose my brother so I can imagine the pain of loss and the constant reminders to be difficult. It’s hard to handle the concept much less the actualities of it. — A moment of silence would never be enough.

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