In response to:

The Old Lady in Black

KYoung43 Wrote: May 27, 2012 12:51 PM
I too was born in 1943 and have pictures my mother took of my brushing my teeth and standing beside a yardstick to show my father, a participant in D-Day, how tall I was getting. He died at age 80, preparing to attend a reunion of the men in his company, in 1994. He never spoke much of the war, but as part of the Greatest Generation, he was entitled to his silence. I fly my flag every Memorial Day and am always grateful for the sacrifices these brave men and women make for a country that is not always as grateful as it should be for what these folks give to us.
Ratas y Ratones Wrote: May 27, 2012 2:49 PM

KYoung43 Wrote: 1 hour ago (12:51 PM)
I too was born in 1943 and have pictures my mother took of my brushing my teeth and standing beside a yardstick to show my father, a participant in D-Day, how tall I was getting. He died at age 80, preparing to attend a reunion of the men in his company, in 1994. He never spoke much of the war, but as part of the Greatest Generation, he was entitled to his silence. I fly my flag every Memorial Day and am always grateful for the sacrifices these brave men and women make for a country that is not always as grateful as it should be for what these folks give to us.

~~~

That's the way it is. The true heros never talk about it.

They have been changed forever.

The most vivid memories aren't those carved in stone but the ones etched in the mind. Memory deepens with the years, the way a river carves through rock, slowly creating canyons, revealing old layers, unveiling pain you'd kept decently covered before, bringing it all back.

Sometimes the river cannot be contained and will overflow its banks. You feel the emotions swelling. Maybe on an anniversary, or when you hear a certain song, or for no discernible reason at all. And it all comes back, the joy and anguish of the past cresting in your mind.

. .

On this Memorial Day...

Related Tags: Memorial Day children America