Memorial Day in my 30s

For Americans today is Memorial Day.  Its a national holiday where America have the day off to remember those who served in the military that have died in the line of duty.  Some of you guys know that I was at one time an American Marine.

I’ve had this blog for nearly 14 years.  I started blogging on here when I was still in the Marines.  I imagine I’ve written a few Memorial Day posts on here over the years and I suppose if I look back on my blogging in general I can see how God has grown me.  I bring this up to say that as I get older and think about Memorial Day there’s a sense the way I think about Memorial Day changes.

I’ve been out of the military for quite some time now; enough that I don’t have dreams about it.  Enough to be soft both physically and mentally.  I can’t fit in any of my old uniforms anymore but then back then I was too skinny when I was in the Marines (I think I look better now).  When I still was in the Marines I use to look at military newspaper that came out around Memorial Day to see the faces of all those who were killed between the last memorial day and the current one.  I read what I can and noted in my mind the age, the face, the unit and date of death.  I did that for years before it got too much.  Along the way I’ve seen familiar faces.  When there’s a face you recognize that slow everything down.

When I got out obviously the pressure of deployment and even possibility of deployment went away.  But then Memorial Day took on a different form.  With each passing year with another year of life I think of those who didn’t get the privilege of living another year away from uniform.

I think of my marriage.  I think of having kids.  I think of ministry.  I think of the joys of walking.  The breeze of a night walk in May.  The delight of reading.  Different food and travels.  And on top of that: the satisfaction of serving God and learning more about Him.

And I think of how tragic it is that some of those young men and women didn’t get to enjoy those things because they died while serving in the military.

Of course as I get older I think more of the family members left behind, more than I did when I was young.

It seems your first death in the military you remember the most.  In my case it was 17 years ago.  It happened to a guy who was blown up by enemy ordinances a few days after Memorial day.  Today was the first time I wonder how that must have felt for the mom…to have received notification about her son’s death after a holiday that remembered those who died in uniform.  It seem kind of cruel in ways that never occurred to me before.

Many guys in my unit have tried to connect online with the mom of the dead servicemember.  She never responds to any of them.  Now that I’m older I don’t blame her.  Actually I feel in some sense it might be for the better.  Still I can’t just turn away from the mom’s social media even if I can’t do anything.  I look at her pics and I pray for her.

I noticed how the mom’s last name has changed.  Remarriage after her son’s death.  I noticed how she’s aged.  I notice how many posts are about other people who have lost loved ones that served our country.  Yet only a fraction of her posts would mention her son.  A picture here.  A vague reference there.  And lots of posts with Bible verses and things about God.  I think besides the differences of ethnicities and homestate, there’s nothing too incredibly different from her from other moms…including my own.

How tragic it is and how hard it must be to be a mom with a son who was killed 17 years ago in Iraq.  17 years.  That’s about the age of when her son was in the military.  These past 17 years seem so long yet also seem to past by so quick.  I shrudder to think if I only have 17 years with my children.

As I get older Memorial Day has become more a time of prayer for the family of servicemembers who died in the line of duty….and a day I want to hold my girls tighter and teach them about what this day is about, and the men I’ve known who is no longer with us.