I’ve been remiss this week. I wanted to write a post about the meaning of Memorial day, beyond the Sea to Ski parties Smart Guy and I enjoy with our friends. Beyond the annual lobster fest we enjoy. Throughout the weekend, with my house filled with friends and laughter, I kept thinking of what Memorial Day really stands for to so many others. I have no personal reference points, but as the current war rages on, or as we toured Pearl Harbor in April, I am sobered over and over by the human loss—on all sides. The families who must go on without someone they love, the men and women who come home scarred and haunted. I regret that I didn’t find this post by Beaten Into Submission, sooner. This post is eloquent, hauntingly beautiful… and about what matters. A few days late, but something we should all spend more time thinking about regardless of the date.
As a veteran and a Marine today is one of those days that I am haunted by the past. I look to the left and right of me, no one is there but I still see the faces of friends who have fallen before me. Lives I’ve held in my hand but let slip through my fingers like water in a stream.
Dead baby jokes whispered quietly just under the ringing in my ears. Laughs shared; tears shed. My brothers in arms, my family; or at least the closest thing I ever had to family. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about how many of them, people I knew, will have their wives or girlfriends wake up in the morning and roll over to an empty bed, the warmth stolen from them just like the last breaths of their loved ones.
What do you tell a woman when you…
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