On Saturday, Stewart and I were at the grocery store and a beautiful, white-haired woman was sitting with a donation box for VFW (Veterans of Foreign Wars). Stewart put in some money and she handed him a poppy and he smiled and then fell silent. I asked him what the poppy reminded him of, expecting a specific reply. Now that we've been married forever... or 12 years... I usually know what he's going to say. I expected him to say that they remind him of our trip to Normandy when we visited the British Cemetery and they were handing out poppies. I was surprised to hear him say that it reminded him of Remembrance Day when he was in Iraq. The British soldiers handed out poppies to all of the U.S. soldiers. I've thought about that ever since. The poppies are a beautiful symbol of remembrance. They spontaneously grew on the battlefields and among the graves of the soldiers and were recorded in McCrae's famous poem, "In Flanders Fields":In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead.
Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
And all I could think about...my conclusion I finally drew...was that there was a large part of my husband's life that I would never understand. There was something that we did not truly share. And though I can feel a part of his wartime experience and though I can recognize the changes it brought in my life, I will never fully know all of the changes it brought in his life. Something as small as a red poppy reminded me of that. It reminded me that the honorable man I married has strength beyond my understanding. And I am thankful.
And again today I am thankful. I am thankful for the pioneer heritage that my children have through my husband's bloodline. I am thankful that there are graves we can visit and stories we can hear. I am thankful for the reminders of the greatness that came before us. And I am hopeful that some day, our children will tell stories to their children of their brave father and grandfather. I think that's why I love Memorial Day. It has become something of a religious holiday to me. It warms my heart and fills me with love for the people who gave me life.
Happy Memorial Day.
