Memorial Day

(I apologize for the syntax errors in the blog. I am sure there are many. My grammar brain has not yet woken up. Please bear with me for this one. I'll do better next time.)

Today we went to Ft Riley's Memorial Day ceremony. I'm pretty sure we got there on time, but we may have been a few minutes late. The point is we went. The kids we dressed appropriately, and Codey was wearing his dress uniform. During the ceremony the kids were quiet and respectful (even Emilee). They even saluted during Taps and The Star Spangled Banner.

As we were walking to the ceremony, we were passed by a woman and her two boys. They couldn't have been more than 8 and 10, maybe 11. I started looking around, and I noticed a lot of single women with children, and I couldn't help but wonder, "Were these widows of Iraq or Afghanistan?" "Are these children here to honor the memory of their fallen father?" Or, "Are they here because Dad is deployed, and he wants his kids to honor his lost friends?"

I had all these thoughts as we were walking up, and we couldn't even hear the words yet.

I started out wanting to go because I wanted to teach our kids what Memorial Day is all about. I wanted them understand that there were many, many generations before us who sacrificed more than we can imagine to ensure that we have what we do. I wanted to honor the fallen soldiers who gave their lives so their buddy wouldn't have to. Soldiers who died because they believed in the United States and the ideals that we stand for. However, as I was standing there watching the women with their children during the playing of Taps, I thought, "Maybe I'm not here for the fallen soldiers." I realized during that song that I was there for the wives, husbands, children, parents, and other various loved ones who are still mourning that loss. The loss of their spouse, child, parent, or friend, that they will never get over.

I know my husband isn't deployed, nor has he ever been, but it's coming.  Eventually, he will get those orders, and he will go.  He wants to go. It's his job. If he doesn't go, somebody else will. So, he thinks it should be him, and maybe he's right. Why not give some other guy and his family a break? When that time comes, I am sure I will worry about him and his squad. I will worry about so many things. Like, are they getting enough sleep? Is it too hot or too cold for them? Are they missing us like we're missing them? Mostly, as I'm sure you know, I will worry about their safety. I will worry that eventually, the slow driving Ford coming up the road is for us. That they're coming to tell us, "Ma'am, I am sorry to inform you..."

My thoughts today turned into, "I'm so glad I'm not that wife. I don't know what I would do," even as I was standing there looking at what very likely may have been THAT wife. She has gone through an immeasureable amount of pain and grief. She has had to suffer through the loss of her soul mate, while also comforting the children that Daddy left behind. (Note that while I am using "she," I know there are plenty of husbands who have gone through the same thing.)

I realized at that moment that I am not really here for the fallen soldier. I was there for the wife and children. I was paying my respects to them because their suffering is ongoing. It's real. It's here. It's NOW, and it doesn't go away.

So, I will continue to take my children to ceremonies that honor the dead, and I will teach them to honor the living who have been left behind while they're at it. In this military life, they are bound to have friends who lose parents. I wish it wasn't that way, but that sad reality is that over 6,000 coalition forces have been killed since these wars began, and we're not done yet.

Ceremonies may be boring, and they may be pointless to some, but I feel that as a fellow military wife it is my duty, my mission, to teach the next generation to remember. Remember those who have fallen, for sure, but also remember those who are still here.  Thank them for their sacrifice. They deserve it.