He smoked the brisket all day. While the kiddos played out back under the sun-filled blue skies. I sipped on a cold brew. And we listened to country music over the speakers.
It felt like summer. It felt like freedom.
We sat down for dinner. And did our thankfuls. And the adults were all thankful for freedom. For those who have fought for it. My dad, thankful for his dad fighting in WWll. My husband, thankful for his dad, a soldier in Vietnam. And then, after several thankfuls, we prayed.
And then, my dad started telling my grandpa’s story. Of his active service. Fighting in tanks. Like the ones the boys have seen in parks. Fighting the Germans. And then, getting to come home. He talked about him getting called up once again. Preparing to ship out of California. And of Harry S Truman’s decision to bomb Hiroshima. And Nagasaki. About how my grandpa didn’t end up having to go to fight the Japanese. We talked about the people who died. From the bomb. From the radiation sickness. From the war. And all of the Americans who are alive today because of the Soldiers in that war. And in all others.
He talked about my grandpa getting a civilian job then. And starting a family with my grandmother. And about how him being spared from fighting again might be the very reason we — our individual family — all exists today.
And then my husband shared briefly, about his dad. About a story of him coming back to his tent after an attack and finding shrapnel in his cot. And I thought about how different the stories are. One is a war that people talk about and applaud. The other, people have so many mixed emotions about. And yet for me, they both took place before I ever existed. I simply take for granted that people fought for our country then. Because I wasn’t even alive.
And as we talked, I told the Oldest the old saying, “we must learn about history so we do not let history repeat itself.” And then we talked about Memorial Day. And the importance of honoring and remembering those who have served. Who have fought. Who have sacrificed. So much of themselves. So that everyone else in our nation might know freedom. Remembering all of those who have gone before us, whether as soldiers or not. To give us life in this nation. So we can sit in our backyards. Enjoying the sunshine. The blue skies. Sip cold brews. Prepare our own meals. Join in prayer, if we so choose. And thank God for our nation. The land of the free because of the brave.
My grandpa died at 62. From a heart attack. I was 2. And never got to hear the stories from his mouth. And I’ve never really asked my father-in-law about his time in Vietnam. Because that seems like a whole other time. And a whole other place. And yet. Yet without them. Without so many. So many who sign up. Or so many who were drafted. I would not know the freedoms I get to know today.
I’m so proud to be an American. And I’m thankful for my freedom. And today, this year more than most, I remember my grandpa, and recognize all those who fought and continue to fight so that we all might live in a more perfect union. From sea to shining sea.
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