I posted this a few years back on facebook. It is still what I think about every memorial day, and I thought it might be appropriate here.
Five summers ago I was lucky enough to get to spend a weekend with one of my heroes. Along with my grandfather, my brother, and my cousin, I attended a reunion of my grandfather's unit from World War II. It was a great time, but it also forever changed the way I look at Memorial Day. I have always had an appreciation for Veteran's Day. I know plenty of Veterans, and it happens to have been my grandmother's birthday. The problem with Memorial Day is that I didn't know anyone personally who had made the ultimate sacrifice. Poppy had told me plenty of stories about his days in the army prior to that moment, but they had tended to focus more on the positive.
A completely different side of my grandfather appeared when we approached one of the first exhibits at the museum. It was simply a sign on the wall that listed all of the soldiers who had fought in his unit and given their lives for us. As I stood with Poppy, he spoke a little softer and proceeded to point out the stories behind the names. "He died right in front of me." "He was my best friend." As he continued on through many more names, both of us started to tear up. I remember at one point toward the end of the list, Poppy said that he was providing cover fire to one of the names. He then trailed off as he stated that he guessed he didn't do a good enough job. It tore me apart to see one of my heroes hurt like that, and I just wanted to make him feel better.
While I felt sad, I also felt honored that Poppy had shared with me some of his heroes and how much they meant to him. Sorry if this was too long, but it's Memorial Day. Thank you to all of Poppy's brothers and sisters in arms and all of our heroes who gave everything for us.