As a child, I heard May 31st described as “Decoration Day.” My family would get together and go to the cemetery where my brother was buried. He had served in the Army and was deployed to Panama.
Although I was two years old at the time of his death, I remember the flag that draped his casket. It looked huge, and I remember how my mom cried as the casket was lowered into the ground. I was too young to understand.
In 1996, Memorial Day took on a new meaning for me. That year, I went to Washington, D.C.
There I was walking towards the Viet Nam War Memorial Wall. From the hill, I could see the entire wall. Something within me wanted to reach it quickly, but it seemed like I was walking in slow motion. I could not get there fast enough. So many names. So many…
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