It’s been almost four years since we lost my late husband, Jason.
Since that time, most of his personal effects have been in storage because it was just too painful and overwhelming to even think about going through them. I started feeling like it was time to have them delivered and start working through this significant step in moving forward, so I requested them a few months back. But due to some extreme weather we were dealing with, they were just delivered just a couple of weeks ago. So, purely by coincidence, we started Memorial Day weekend by going through the boxes, looking through all of his things, deciding what to keep, and making the difficult decision to get rid of things.
This process has been very clarifying…therapeutic…sad…and just feels very final. Of course, there will never be a time when Jason isn’t part of our memories, but parting with his things is another step in our lives and the memories we are making without him. Like saying one final goodbye to a person who was such a huge part of our lives and moving forward on our own.
We decided to keep some of his things that were significant to who he was, his life, and his accomplishments. As I was packing things up, I picked up his combat boots to place them in a box, and I was filled with emotion. They still have the blousing straps attached, and the laces are loosened, just like he left them the very last time he took off his uniform. Every day when he came home from work he would sit on the edge of the bed, loosen the laces in a very specific way, and take off his boots.
Those empty boots sitting by the bed meant he was home.
This Memorial Day weekend, we honor all our military members who lost their lives in the line of duty.
That used to mean something very different to me before than it does now.
“I also felt a great sense of pride as an American for the efforts of our military in defeating tyranny and restoring peace.”
I used to think about our military men and women who died in wars fighting for our freedom and feel deeply grateful for their sacrifice because it meant that I got to live a life of freedom in a beautiful and exceptional nation. I used to think about the wars we have fought to preserve that same freedom for other nations worldwide. As I studied WWI and WWII, I would feel sadness for the lives that were lost in those efforts, but I also felt a great sense of pride as an American for the efforts of our military in defeating tyranny and restoring peace.
Losing Jason changed my perspective.
I no longer think of the governments or the tyrants wreaking havoc on the world. I no longer think of the military efforts or about the importance of preserving peace. I no longer think of what a badass our military is or how big of a force they are to be reckoned with.
No. I now think of the families who lost their loved ones.
I see the pictures of empty boots lined up with rifles and helmets signifying the final march, and I think of lives that have been cut short and the men and women who will never be returning home. I think of the mothers, the husbands and wives, the children, and all of the families grieving for them. I think of all the broken hearts and tears that are shed. I think of all the heartbreaking funerals with the 21-gun salutes while Taps plays in the background. I think of the folded flag being handed to the grieving family as a symbol of gratitude from the Nation. I think of the lonely graveside visits. I think of the children growing up without their parent, whose lives have become defined by loss. I think of the young widows struggling to raise their children alone. I think of the mothers who will never again know the joy of embracing their children. I think of the fathers who will never again gaze on their children with pride in this life. I think of all the memories that will never be made, the missed opportunities, and young lives that have been abruptly ended with potential that will never be reached and dreams that will never be achieved.
That is what Memorial Day means to me now. It is a day to honor the lives we have lost, but I no longer feel a sense of pride; I just feel sad.
“I think of all the memories that will never be made, the missed opportunities, and the young lives that have been abruptly ended with potential that will never be reached and dreams that will never be achieved.”
When we hear of escalating violence globally, I am no longer filled with confidence when our troops deploy to address that violence. I feel angry.
That anger is not directed towards our military, who works so hard. It is directed at all of the world’s governments who do not value the lives of those who serve in the military. It is directed at those who use military power to promote a political agenda. My anger is directed at all those who use the military as a weapon to harm rather than a tool to defend.
We can have a whole debate about what constitutes a political war and when or where our troops should or should not be deployed…but I am not here to debate the politics of war.
What I am here to say is that we need to honor our military members who have lost their lives fighting for our country by taking time, before we deploy our troops, to carefully consider whether or not they are fighting for something worthy of the lost lives, tears, lifelong grief, and devastation that will be thrust onto their families if they die, or return forever mentally broken, trying to complete the mission they were given. The lives of our military members and their families need to matter. We owe them that.
So while most Americans spend today celebrating with barbecues and relishing in a day off of work, I will look at those empty boots and be reminded that Jason is home and he can finally rest in peace, no longer fighting the battle that raged in his head long after he left the war.
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