"Mommy, don't go!" The beautiful, blue eyed, little girl yells. She is kicking and screaming as she is ripped out of her mother's arms. The sweet baby girl sobs the entire drive to her new home. She will be staying with her Mommy's friends for the next 10 months. She doesn't understand why her mother has to leave. Her Mommy, the person that has tucked her in each night for the last 3 years, serves in a platoon that was selected to tour outside of the US. A part of the world that certainly isn't safe for toddlers. Deployed for nearly a year.
BOOM!
I don't hear a sound, but I can see the shrapnel and debris falling from the sky like it's sprinkling; raining war. I should hear the return fire. I should stand up. I need to find my platoon. I yell, not knowing if anyone will hear me, or if anyone else survived the bomb. "Where did that come from? Where is our back up? Where is Mike?"
A brother from my platoon runs to me. He grabs me with both hands and pulls me to my feet. I can tell he is screaming, but I can't hear him. I can read his lips. "Get up! Let's go! He's gone!"
"Fuck you, man. That was supposed to be me! Mike could tell that I wasn't feeling well today so he told me that he'd take the lead. That was supposed to be me! What am I going to tell his wife and kids? What am I going to tell his Mom?"
I am pulled into the helicopter. As they begin to remove the shrapnel from my face and hands, the day replays in my head for the first time. I don't know it then, but this will be the first time in a never ending series that this day will to replay in my mind.
I see it when I'm sleeping. I see it while I'm awake. Mike died 52 years ago. The scars on my face and hands are barely visible under the wrinkles, but that day, each and every detail of that day, is replayed in my head more often than I care to admit.
When I tell my children that I will be home after work, they act like I will be gone forever! I can't imagine leaving them while I was stationed in a foreign county. I would have to tell them that I would be home soon, but I would also know that I could not guarantee this. And soon would not be tonight, but months and months and months away. Can you imagine? A facebook friend of mine took in a little girl while her mother served out her tour...more than 10 months long.
A friend of mine tells a similar story to the second one that I described. When he returned home from tour, I was so worried about him; about the scars on his hands and the damage to his hearing. I cried when I saw the scars on his face and this was after quite some time healing in a Germany hospital. He wiped my tears and told me not to cry for him, but to cry for his brother that paid the ultimate sacrifice. Cry for the fallen heroes and their family and friends because they are the ones that deserve my tears, not him.
The third one is completely fictional, but I did cry when I was writing it, because it's real to so many families.
Matt, one of my friends that is also a veteran, really wanted to write a post about Memorial Day. After writing and writing, he was unable to put into words exactly what he wanted to say. But I hope that he understands that things, places, events...people, that have such profound meaning in a person's life can't possibly be described in a blog post. Honestly, it's not possible to describe the feelings that a Veteran has about Memorial Day in a blog, a book, or a movie because the feelings and emotions are indescribable, untellable, and beyond comprehension to us civilians.
Even though we will never fully comprehend the sacrifices that all of the people in the armed forces have made, we can try to show them how much they are appreciated. We can show them that we are eternally grateful for their service. That we will continue to pray for the fallen heroes, the surviving friends and family, Matt and all of the rest of the Veterans, the wives, the husbands, the mothers, the fathers, the daughters and the sons of those that serve. Not JUST on the holiday weekend, but ALWAYS. Wear your red, white, and blue. Bow your head in honor. Put your hand over your heart. Raise your flags high and REMEMBER the price our of freedoms. CELEBRATE the Veterans with us today. Take a look into another's eyes so that you can better recognize all that they do for our country. Teach your children to do the same.
.............................
BOOM!
I don't hear a sound, but I can see the shrapnel and debris falling from the sky like it's sprinkling; raining war. I should hear the return fire. I should stand up. I need to find my platoon. I yell, not knowing if anyone will hear me, or if anyone else survived the bomb. "Where did that come from? Where is our back up? Where is Mike?"
A brother from my platoon runs to me. He grabs me with both hands and pulls me to my feet. I can tell he is screaming, but I can't hear him. I can read his lips. "Get up! Let's go! He's gone!"
"Fuck you, man. That was supposed to be me! Mike could tell that I wasn't feeling well today so he told me that he'd take the lead. That was supposed to be me! What am I going to tell his wife and kids? What am I going to tell his Mom?"
I am pulled into the helicopter. As they begin to remove the shrapnel from my face and hands, the day replays in my head for the first time. I don't know it then, but this will be the first time in a never ending series that this day will to replay in my mind.
I see it when I'm sleeping. I see it while I'm awake. Mike died 52 years ago. The scars on my face and hands are barely visible under the wrinkles, but that day, each and every detail of that day, is replayed in my head more often than I care to admit.
..............................
"Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If war should take my first born son, please help me to stand strong until my days on earth are done." I finish the prayer I have been saying each night for the last 3 months. I cross off another day on my calendar. One day closer to October when my nineteen year old baby comes home from tour. I can't help the tears that are falling. I look up to find my 14 year old daughter watching me.
"Why are you crying, Mom? Is everything alright?" She instinctively inquires.
"Yes, babe, I was just praying for your brother; for his safety, for the safety of his friends that he knows as brothers and sisters, and for all of the men and women that are fighting for our country. I'm scared because I haven't been able to reach your brother for five days now and when he called last he said he was in dangerous territory." I try to regain my composure and maintain a strong front for his baby sister. That's what he would want.
She jumps up to grab the phone and I can tell she is talking to him, my baby boy! I can't stop the tears. Relief, excitement, and joy as she quickly wraps up her conversation and tells her big brother that Mom's ready to have a break down due to worry.
"Hey, Mom! I'm fine. We were on high alert and weren't allowed to use the phones or Internet. We're safe now and I just called quick to tell you that I love you." He casually rattles off as if he stayed out at a party too late or a concert ran over.
"I love you, too, Bud. It is so good to hear your voice." I try to pull myself together to ask him if he's been eating enough, if he's been getting any rest and if he's doing ok, but as we say "I love you" for the last time I feel like I'm ready to explode. He is fine THIS time. Five more months until he walks off that plane onto US soil. What if he re enlists? What if he is deployed again?
I walk my daughter back to her room and give her an extra squeeze. I tell her how proud I am of her and her big brother, that I love her.
I return to my room and kneel. "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If war should take my first born son, please help me to stand strong until my days on earth are done."
................................
I could write short little stories like this all night. These three are drawn from real life and my worst nightmares. When I tell my children that I will be home after work, they act like I will be gone forever! I can't imagine leaving them while I was stationed in a foreign county. I would have to tell them that I would be home soon, but I would also know that I could not guarantee this. And soon would not be tonight, but months and months and months away. Can you imagine? A facebook friend of mine took in a little girl while her mother served out her tour...more than 10 months long.
A friend of mine tells a similar story to the second one that I described. When he returned home from tour, I was so worried about him; about the scars on his hands and the damage to his hearing. I cried when I saw the scars on his face and this was after quite some time healing in a Germany hospital. He wiped my tears and told me not to cry for him, but to cry for his brother that paid the ultimate sacrifice. Cry for the fallen heroes and their family and friends because they are the ones that deserve my tears, not him.
The third one is completely fictional, but I did cry when I was writing it, because it's real to so many families.
Matt, one of my friends that is also a veteran, really wanted to write a post about Memorial Day. After writing and writing, he was unable to put into words exactly what he wanted to say. But I hope that he understands that things, places, events...people, that have such profound meaning in a person's life can't possibly be described in a blog post. Honestly, it's not possible to describe the feelings that a Veteran has about Memorial Day in a blog, a book, or a movie because the feelings and emotions are indescribable, untellable, and beyond comprehension to us civilians.
Even though we will never fully comprehend the sacrifices that all of the people in the armed forces have made, we can try to show them how much they are appreciated. We can show them that we are eternally grateful for their service. That we will continue to pray for the fallen heroes, the surviving friends and family, Matt and all of the rest of the Veterans, the wives, the husbands, the mothers, the fathers, the daughters and the sons of those that serve. Not JUST on the holiday weekend, but ALWAYS. Wear your red, white, and blue. Bow your head in honor. Put your hand over your heart. Raise your flags high and REMEMBER the price our of freedoms. CELEBRATE the Veterans with us today. Take a look into another's eyes so that you can better recognize all that they do for our country. Teach your children to do the same.
And I'm proud to be an American,
where at least I know I'm free.
And I won't forget the men who died,
who gave that right to me.
~Lee Greenwood
where at least I know I'm free.
And I won't forget the men who died,
who gave that right to me.
~Lee Greenwood
Woodville Memorial Day Parade 8:30am
Elmore Memorial Day Parade 10:30am
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