As is my personal tradition for Memorial Day, I got up early this morning, went out to the Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge and waited for the sun to come up. As I sat there in the dark, I reminisced upon earlier, darker morns as I waited (prayed?) for the sun to come up and chase away the darkness.
This morning was, of course, different. It was peaceful and it was quiet. There were no explosions last night; no pre-dawn stand-to peering uneasily out across a misty field while waiting for the sun to chase away the darkness while birthing a new day. There were no others with me peering fearfully into the darkness hoping to see nothing. Instead, there was a sunrise reflected off of a moderate cloud deck. A sunrise of vibrant hues and brilliant light peeking ever so slowly over the eastern terminus of this small mountain chain in the middle of the Oklahoma flat lands. The sun leapt above the horizon, eager to start a new day, a day of both promise and remembrance.
Yes, remembrance. Remembering friends who did not make it back home; taken from life to young, before they had realized the promises of their tomorrows. Some died in battle; some died in training accidents; and some died while serving, victims of non-duty accidents and incidents; and some for no apparent reason at all.
Memorial Day is not the day to remember all of those who served; we have other days for that. Memorial Day is to remember those who served and never came back. Far, far too many names are listed on the scroll in my memory. I cannot forget them. I will not forget them.
Don
