Memorial Day was established as a time to honor and mourn those who lost their lives while serving in our armed forces. It’s tempting to ignore the solemn significance of this national holiday in the busy-ness of approaching summer, in the opportunity for a long weekend of travel and festivity, in the opposing tugs of obligation and urge for escape. We do a disservice to our war dead, as well as to those currently serving in our military, when we let the day go by without confronting and pondering the very real human cost of war. There are many, of course, whose grief for the military loss of a family member or friend is unabating. I hope they find at least a small measure of comfort when they see others acknowledging their dear one’s ultimate sacrifice.
In years past, I’ve written about the moving prospect of the miniature flags that decorate military graves in lovely Fairfield Cemetery in Spencerport, New York. This charming Eerie Canal Village near Rochester is the home of my husband’s sister and her family. My dog Kiko and I discovered the flag-adorned cemetery during an early morning walk there seven years ago when we were visiting over the Memorial Day weekend.
Every year since, if I’m not in Spencerport for the holiday, I ask my sister-in-law to send photos of the cemetery.
Her husband serves as a volunteer fire fighter. She also sent this photo of the local fire department. Flags are lowered to half-mast to honor those who gave their lives fighting for our country, our rights and our freedom.
And she sends photos of the Hometown Heroes banners that adorn the lamp posts along the town’s main thoroughfare, Union Street. They bear images of men and women from the area who have served, or who currently serve, in our military. While in the quiet haven of the cemetery, flag-decorated gravestones attest to lives lost in war, the banners in the heart of town remind us of the continuing potential for further sacrifice.
On this Memorial Day, our family is among the many who offer heartfelt thanks that a relative did his or her military duty with honor and returned home physically whole. We think of our twenty-three-year old nephew, who served in the Marines. Back in civilian life, he was able to attend our daughter’s wedding in April. The last time I’d seen him, he was a restless little boy, happy to be rescued from an all-day Irish Dance event, in which his two sisters were participating. He’s now a wise young man, thoughtful, soft-spoken and self-effacing. He was deployed for many months in the Middle East, in dangerous locales that were kept secret. At one point, his parents received word that there had been a death in his company, but the young soldier’s identity wasn’t revealed for a while. The frightening reality of war was painfully evident for our family during those anxious days. Our nephew, of course, lived with the stark truth of imminent danger throughout his deployment. Hours of boredom might suddenly be followed by the sight of missiles soaring overhead like fireworks. He saw all too clearly the physical and emotional damage of war. He’s also seen the ineffectiveness of military might in changing hearts and minds. The experience of war has left him, like many of our returning servicemen and women, with a fresh appreciation for peace and peace-makers.
Every day now we hear conflicting reports about the progress, (or its absence), of yet another all too ill-considered war. We hear conflicting reasons for our country’s entry into this befuddling military campaign. We’re told that earlier missile strikes “obliterated” Iran’s ability to make a nuclear weapon. Then we’re told that Iran was, despite that absolute obliteration, somehow on the very brink of achieving such a weapon. We’re told that the Strait of Hormuz is open. Or maybe not quite yet. But it certainly will be, very soon. We’re extremely close in negotiating the deal to end all deals. We’re told that the war is going “unbelievably well.”
But wait. We’re even told that this is not a war at all. It’s nothing more than a mere skirmish. To grieving families, is this a comfort? No. It belittles the circumstances under which their loved ones gave their lives. To those mourning the thirteen recently deceased service members, it’s yet another slap in the face to hear that their sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers perished in a little skirmish.
How many more lives will be required during this conflict, this non-war, and to what end? As next Memorial Day rolls around, how many more families will be grieving fresh losses? Will we ever learn the value of working for peace, from those, like my nephew, who have lived the reality of war?
