I wasn’t sure I was going to post about Memorial Day because, to be honest, the only words that need be written have been, and they are here: Memorial Day. As Kim has posted that before, I’ve heard the story before. But every time it moves me to tears. The infinitely talented Rachel Lucas has a must read post, as well.
I don’t remember much of my own grandfathers. My mother’s father died before I was three and my father’s father died when I was eight and despite my excellent memory I just don’t have a lot of memories from that far back. It’s sad really, because once I asked my father what his father was like and he said “about like me, I guess.” I would give anything to be able to meet either of my grandfathers now and speak to them. But both men served in World War II. My paternal grandfather, Frank Lawson, sat in the little bubble (I don’t know the proper term) on the underside of a gunship as a gunner, and my maternal grandfather, Francis Hamilton, did some work with coordinating where bombs were to be dropped.
At least, those are the sketchy details I have from both of my parents. Like Kim’s grandfather, their service wasn’t something they spoke much about. I have the flag from my maternal grandfather’s casket. It is folded and stored in a bag to protect it from dust, sitting proudly on the top of my bookshelf. It has not been unfolded since his funeral over twenty years ago, and is one of the first things I would save in a house fire. My grandfathers never met, as far as I am aware, but both served their country. I imagine the attack on Pearl Harbor had a lot to do with their decisions. I know for certain that my father’s grandfather stayed in the service well after the war, because my father was born in England, where his father was stationed, over ten years after the war ended.
A million words can’t say how proud I am of my grandfathers, gone though they may be. Because as quiet as they must have been about their service, it makes them something special: They were heroes. They may not have qualified for the medal of honor, or died on the field, or even been injured. But they stood up to evil and did their part to fight it and see America to victory.
And for them and all the men like them, who fought so that we could be free and live the privileged lives we do, all of us should be thankful — and proud. We enjoy life and our freedoms because of these men, these heroes.