Memorial Day 2012
I went to war as did many of my ancestors, but as far as I know no one of them died on the battle field nor from wounds suffered there. At least not wounds in the normal sense of the word. Each of us left a part, if not all of our innocence in those theaters of battle though; our hearts and spirits were wounded and they are wounds that never heal. They may scab over but the sera of memory is easily provoked to spill out with the slightest stimulus. In particular for me is the sight of the Wall. The mere contemplation of this memorial chokes my throat and only a supreme effort can keep the tears contained behind my eyes. To venture near to that Wall or any replica thereof will cause the tears to spill over copiously and anguish well up in my heart and escape past my lips in the lowest of moans.
So today I will go to the cemetery and plant living flowers over the graves of a few of my ancestors, to include a veteran of the Civil War, WWI, and WWII., and their wives, sons, daughters, wives, brothers and nephews.
While I'm kneeling there I'm going to take a few minutes to pray, to pray for an end of War.