“It’s a terrible thing to die on a battlefield a thousand miles from your home and family.”
I heard that statement during a Memorial Day observance in church yesterday. I’d never heard it put quite that way before and it got my attention.
Most of us are sincere in our effort to remember the people who died while serving in our country’s armed services, especially on Memorial Day. Most of us know someone who has lost a family member even if we haven’t personally suffered a loss.
But hearing this remark put things dramatically into a service person’s perspective for the first time for me. It prompted me to imagine vividly what thoughts might flash through the minds of a mortally wounded soldier and his or her comrades on a battlefield. Give the choice, I would prefer to die at home, or at least close to my family. I imagined the utter loneliness – aloneness, if that’s a word – that must overtake a soldier, knowing he or she would never see home and family again.
That personalized the sacrifice which we endeavor to honor on Memorial Day. It’s a far greater sacrifice than most of us can fathom. Regardless of whether we believe a particular war is just or the cause noble, we stop to honor those sent to battle who didn’t come home.