Memorial Day

When I was a little girl, my mother would buy big bouquets of flowers and then drive to two local cemeteries, where she would put one bouquet on her father’s grave, and the other one on my dad’s stepfather’s grave. To me, Memorial Day was a day to remember those who had passed away.

I realize now that it was particularly created to memorialize those who have given their lives fighting for our country… brave, young warriors who absolutely deserve to be memorialized for their service in honor of our freedoms.

I often tremble at the thought of these young members of our society being sent off to fight in wars across the sea, away from family and friends, when they are little more than children themselves, barely having a handle on what life is about, and so many of them never do find out.

Those that have fought for us are undeniably changed in the process, and when they return to civilian life, they don’t quite know how to fit in again.

Yes, those who have given their young lives for us deserve to be honored, but what about those who are still among us, perhaps without limbs, or with indisputable emotional trauma? What sort of honor do they deserve? Do they receive it? What can we do to make a difference in their lives? How do we teach them to trust again and to again recognize the beauty, the abundance all around them?