The Reality of Memorial Day

"Col. McHugh died in Kabal, Afghanistan May 18 as a result of wounds
received from a terrorist car bomb.  He was assigned to Fort Leavenworth as the Chief of OPS Group A of the Battle Command Training Program."

This is from an FYI email my husband forwarded to me regarding the colonel's funeral services.  He was stationed at our duty station, and my husband had occasionally seen him around at work.  Col. McHugh was a high ranking military officer in a field that doesn't normally see casualties.  He had five children and one grandchild.  I am sure, very sure, that his wife was shocked.  Sometimes, as military wives, we like to pretend that when our husbands are off doing their jobs, that it is just a regular job, that they are safe, even if they are doing this job in a hostile area.  

I know that I felt this way and told myself every day that the chances of my husband dying in this war were low.  This was a true statement, but as Col. McHugh's death proves, a chance, even a small one, is still a chance.  I still like to pretend that maybe my husband won't have to go back there, but it is a sword that hangs over every soldier's head, no matter the job, no matter the rank.  It is part of our life.

The post community is going to ask for support as the funeral procession passes by on its way to the chapel.  I plan to go, with my daughter, and hold the flag, to honor this man who was part of our military family.  I don't think there is anything better to do to acknowledge Memorial Day.

Memorial Day is not about hotdogs and hamburgers or swimming pools and days off.  It is about all the soldiers and military who have given up so much so that we can squander that day stuffing our face with potato salad.  I wish that every American would take a moment to remember that, to remember that there are children with no father or mother, widows and widowers, parents who have lost children.  All because some have given the ultimate sacrifice in the effort to preserve our freedom.