Memorial Day

This weekend we celebrate Memorial Day where we are to honor the men and women who have given their lives while serving in the military.  This tradition started just after the Civil War. 

Most Americans think of it as a time to mark the beginning of summer, parades and family gatherings.  But it’s a time to pause and reflect on these veterans’ lives who fought for our freedoms we enjoy in the USA.

In 1968, my Memorial Day was shattered when I received word that a friend of mine had died in Vietnam.  I was 16 years old.  I had just received a letter from Harry Pickard early that morning in which Harry encouraged me to strive to do my best in school and to be very careful while I was driving.  He thanked me for the care package that I sent him the month before.  Harry was looking forward to coming home.

That day at noon, I learned Harry was not going to make it back.  I was devastated as he was the first person who I had known to die. 

The funeral was an amazing celebration of his shorten life.  The soldiers who honored him with the military funeral were perfection.  The day, though sad, made an indelible print on my heart and mind.  I never take my freedom for granted.  I never forget the ones who are sacrificing for me every day in dangerous foreign lands.

In 1982, I came full circle in filling up the hole Harry Pickard’s death left in my heart.  I visited his name on the Vietnam Memorial Wall.  I cried.  I took pictures.  I rubbed his name.  I finally said goodbye.