[Mkguild] Memorial Day

[cokane8116 at aol.com]

It is Memorial Day. The day we here in the United States remember those who served. And those who served and gave their last full measure of devotion.

 As we celebrate let us all remember those who cannot. 



Christian O'kane




Afterward
by Christian O'kane

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   It seems strangeto sit here and write these words. The visit to the cemetery went well. Itseemed so peaceful, a fitting place for them to rest. It took all of us to findthe right stone. There were so many, too many. Jessica found it, laughing andrunning among the crosses reading name. She thought it was a game. I think Johnwould have liked that. He always loved kids. Too bad he didn’t live to see hisgrandchildren. His daughter Janet brought a huge bouquet of flowers and spent along time fussing about their placement. Still, after that she stood quietly bythe grave for a long time. Then she presented her own granddaughter to him. “Iwant you to meet your great grand child, Sarah Ann,” she said.
 
   Lord but Sarahhas John’s eyes, and Janet has his voice. Every time she speaks I hear him andhis face comes back to me, as young and alive as ever. That’s how I see him;laughing and joking. I remember how we used to laugh, and drink and partytogether, and I remember how he died.  Atleast it was quick, painless.
 
   The faces of allthose I left behind come back to me, John, Willie, Andrew, fat corporalHernandez. To my children they’re nothing but names carved on stone, but to methey’re faces, young faces that will never grow old. I remember seeingHernandez screaming with his legs blown off, I see Andrews body scattered allover the ground, and I remember the shriek of the shell that killed John. I seetheir faces again and I wonder if their deaths were worth it. I cried at theirgraves and I’m crying now as I write this. Was it worth it?
 
   Suddenly I feelthe touch of a small hand on my arm. It’s Jessica come to see why Grandpa wascrying. She hugs me and gives me the picture she drew to cheer me up. It’s ofthe flowers at John’s grave.
 
   Were their deathsworth it? Yes. I see my giggling granddaughter wiggling in my lap and smile.John always loved kids.
 
   End
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