Memorial Day: We Remember Because We Understand
On Memorial Day, Veterans Don’t Just Reflect—We Relive
As the sun rose over my 68th Memorial Day, I found myself thinking back on the 68,000 brothers and sisters we’ve lost just in my lifetime—from Vietnam to Niger, and all the places in between.
It’s always a somber moment for me. I try to spend it consciously, thinking about them.
We put on our boots and go where we’re told.
We do what we’re taught.
Some of us make it home. Some don’t.
But the ones who didn’t—they’re not gone.
Not really.
Gone from this earth, yes.
But not from our hearts.
Not from our memories.
They survive through those who loved them deeply—and those who honor them for doing the hard things, so others could sleep peacefully in the bosom of this country we call America.
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There’s a silence to Memorial Day that most people don’t notice.
It’s not the quiet of a long weekend. It’s not about cookouts or sales.
For many veterans, it’s a stillness that settles deep in our bones—a kind of remembering that doesn’t always come with words.
We’ve seen the empty boots.
Heard the 21-gun salute echo across a cemetery.
Folded the flag.
Carried the casket.
Sat through the silence afterward, unsure what to do next.
Veterans don’t just mark Memorial Day—we carry it.
We feel it in ways that are hard to explain to those who’ve never worn the uniform.
It’s not just about honoring sacrifice—it’s about knowing what it took.
We knew the ones who gave all.
We trained with them, served with them, joked with them—and sometimes, we said goodbye without warning.
That kind of loss doesn’t leave. It becomes part of you.
And yet, we remember with pride.
Because those who didn’t come home—they mattered.
Not just to their families and their country, but to us.
They were our brothers and sisters. We carry their names like dog tags on our hearts.
This Memorial Day, take a moment.
Say their name.
Tell their story.
Let someone know they lived. That they mattered. That they still do.
We remember. Because we understand.