As the wrinkled white haired man with a dark blue cap adorned with shiny pins proudly atop his head stood with the Army veterans to be recognized as the children sang, I couldn't help but think of his memories, his struggle, his fear in the quest for freedom. I am sure his own feelings must have been stirred far more deeply than I, for he had given the biggest sacrifice- beyond death- a piece of his life, precious time to serve our country.
Then I saw little Kaylee's dad on my row and Noah's father a bit further down, both whom recently returned from a tour overseas in Afghanistan. They pilot Black Hawk helicopters. My boys have helped assemble care packages and written letters to these men, real heroes, over the past two years. What a joy it was to see them safe back in Lexington. Back to their wives and children. Back where they should be. Home. What a gift they have given us. I was honored to be in their presence.
My mind thought of my own dear sweet grandfathers who bravely served in World War II. My dad's father was sent to Japan as an officer and would have been one of the first troops to invade on Japanese soil if the atomic bomb had not hastened the end. My mom's father was a merchant marine and traveled the world with much needed supplies. Rich's Grandpa Jackson was a doctor and spent years during and after the war in Europe helping the wounded soldiers. He missed the birth of his first born son and finally met his child when he was over two years old. That is love and devotion for a cause greater than your own.
While I have not had to feel the sting of death, the pain and anguish of saying goodbye to a loved one lost in battle, my own life has been affected by war. My life would have been altered if things would have gone differently. My Grandma Larsen was just 17 when she wed my grandfather, 27, fresh home from the service. It is uncertain if he would have married at a younger age if he had not gone off to war. My Grandpa Nance surely would have perished if he had been on the front line storming Japan. He married my grandma after the war. Rich's dad and twin brother were born exactly nine months after Grandpa Jackson made it home to Salt Lake City back in 1946. Both of our fathers had a Vietnam draft number, but never were call up. I have been blessed that my loved ones lives were spared when so many were not. My life would have traveled down a different path. How lucky I am that was not the plan for me.
So today I salute and honor Veterans near and far, old and young, alive and deceased. For you should be praised and remembered not only on 11/11 but forever. From the bottom of my heart: THANK YOU!
1 comment:
How great that your school did such a wonderful assemble to honor the veterans.
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