No one in my circle wants to hear me say it. Nonetheless, I am still grieving the death of my ex-husband. We were divorced for several years. We lived in different towns. Yet we remained in touch, and shared every thing. I can't used to not having him in my life.

At times, I think of him, and it seems okay, and I go on. Other times, I think of him, and I start bawling and can't stop. He's been gone 6 months. It seems so unfair. He was a few years younger than me, and I was the one with severe health problems. He was supposed to outlive me! Nothing worked out for him or for us as a couple. He struggled so much emotionally and financially. With better days seemingly around the corner, his life ended. I've lost my best friend, my biggest heartache, my greatest headache, my confidant, my comforter.

I will never care about anyone else again the way I did him. I couldn't. It took too much out of me. I couldn't be that strong for anyone else ever again. I couldn't ever let anyone else get that close to me or know me that well. Once in a lifetime is all I can handle. Any other relationship would be shallow at best. It wouldn't take much for me to call it quits, no matter how good he was. No, I've had my one and only.

It was never a great love. It was usually one-sided, or uneven. I doubt it was any more fulfilling for him than it was for me. For better or worse, he's gone, and I feel very alone. He was never great company, but I still feel so alone. I'm not deifying him in death. I'm fully aware of the problems that tormented him, and thereby, tormented me. I am aware of the wreck my life became while married to someone so unstable. But I always held onto that hope that his good side aroused. The part of him that was tender and caring and generous made me want to believe that he was going to control his insecurities and family issues and addiction. I don't need to hash all that out again. I lived through it enough, enough to leave him, at least legally and physically.

Death is still a harsh reality. I've been angry at God, angry at my ex for living the way he did, angry at his family for caring so little and for hurting him so much all his life. I've felt guilty, absolved, then guilty again. I've wondered many what-if's, and if only's. I've had nightmares, bad dreams, and lay awake crying all night. God knows what I would have done, if he had died while we were still married. We've had this emotional and physical distance, and I've still had trouble coping. But time marches on. I know that I will continue to get accustomed to the idea. I don't think I can "resolve" it. How does anyone "resolve" the death of a loved one? I lost my mother 3 years ago and I still miss her. I lost my ex-husband six months ago, and I still miss him. They were my two best friends. Now I have none.
 

While most of us tend to think of honoring someone as praising them, giving them gifts or awards, there may be other more significant ways to honor them. Sometimes just thanking them is an honor, as in the case of a teacher or counselor, who may not realize the affect they had on you.

For parents, or guardians, perhaps the best way to honor them is to be really good people. If you are kind, decent, honest, and trust-worthy, this is an honor to the people who raised you, even if they weren't always that way themselves. Being good at your job, raising your family conscientiously, being a good neighbor is an honor to your parents. Being successful in the community, staying out of debt, and practicing charity are also ways to honor your parents. Taking care of your parents when they are sick or elderly also honors them.

I know that not all people will appreciate your goodness, your generosity, your success, your high standards of morality. Some parents are just too self-centered, too difficult to please. Accept that these will never realize they are being honored. But you know that your citizenship, your spirituality, your achievement elevate you to a higher plane of living, and this is an honor to those who have brought you into the world, those who raised you, and those who have led you and influenced you. Always strive to be a better person!
 

Once again it's Father's Day, another chance to focus on our fathers' shortcomings, be they minor or major. I rush to say I had a good father with only minor flaws. He was hard-working, stable, dedicated to his wife and children, even to his own family and to his wife's parents. He was and is honest and decent and caring and sacrificial. It's easy in the day-o-ay affairs to focus on the minor issues, personality conflicts, over-protective issues, etc. We can all complain about something, and it might sound like we're dissatisfied. I have to say, overall, I was blessed when it came to parents.

I recognize, however, that being blessed with parents may be more rare than commonplace, especially with fathers. Many people know firsthand about absentee fathers, or alcoholic or abusive fathers. Many fathers assert their position in the family with crankiness, bossiness, or ultimate power. And so their kids grow up hating or resenting them. I know one man who said he reached his 40's before he stopped hating his father, and learned to care about him. I know another family where all the sons hated their father until his death for the way he treated them and their mother. All of them are good fathers themselves.

Whether you had a good father or a cruel one or none at all, life is what it is. We can't rewrite it. At some point we have to stop feeling sorry for ourselves and get on with our own lives. Maybe this year is the year you finally need to forgive your father for being a jerk, or cruel, or hateful. It might be very liberating for you to let go of the built-up resentment, the hate, the anger. Maybe he had an excuse, maybe he was just evil. It doesn't matter. Let it go. It wasn't your fault; it was his.

Of course, to forgive someone, you must first acknowledge that something needs to be forgiven. Whatever the problem, admit that it happened if you haven't already. Maybe he was overly strict or overly protective, maybe he worked too much and spent little time with you, maybe he was cold and not available emotionally, or maybe he was violent and scary. Small or large, the "crime" was done, and now it's over. History can't be rewritten and shouldn't be swept under the rug. Acknowledge that it happened, and then forgive. Forgiveness doesn't require that you pretend it never happened, or that you make yourself vulnerable again. It does require letting go of the burden, of the anger.

While Father's Day, like Mother's Day, is set aside to honor parents, and increase commercial business in doing so, perhaps it should be a day when we reconcile ourselves to our parents, living or deceased. We can thank parents who we deem deserve honor. We can forgive those who deem unworthy of honor. By doing either, we mature a bit ourselves and claim our lives as our own. We can also use these days to resolve to be good parents ourselves, and to support the other parents we know.
 

When we ponder our own mortality, occasionally we think about what we leave behind. Do I have the garage cleaned out? How about the sheds and the attic? Did I take those old clothes to Goodwill? Will the ones concerned find my instructions, if any, or the insurance papers, or all the bank accounts, etc? And if there's a current health concern, or we're up in years, then it may seem even more pressing to be sure the house is clean, the bills paid, the dirty little secrets tossed out, or the computer cleaned up. It just depends on our personalities and how we want to be remembered, or forgotten.

If we actually have someone to inherit our things, then we might want to decide who gets the nice jewelry or which pearls, who gets the rare coin collection, or our handmade crafts, or fishing gear. If there's a sense of family legacy, we might want to list the hand-me-downs and who owned them, like Great Grandma's silverware, or Aunt Jenny's tatted tablecloth from the early 1900's, or Great Great Uncle Joe's seed planter. The kids won't know what those things are or that they have sentimental value if we don't write it down (they won't remember if you tell them). Or photos and snapshots may have to be labeled.

Which brings me to my current pondering: I'm trying to label every photo I find in this house. I don't know them all, so I'm hounding my elderly father, my uncles, and even distant cousins. When I get a positive ID, I write on the back of the picture. The really good shots, or the really old ones, I'm putting in my Windows photo gallery to preserve them for future use. Provided there's someone who knows they're on my hard drive, someone will have them when I'm gone, no fading paper or yellowing film.

Now here's the thing. Will anyone but me care? As an adult, I had a relationship with three of my four grandparents (one died when I was 13). My brothers and probably half my cousins built a relationship with them as adults. So we have this sense of continuity, of heritage. The next generation doesn't care. In my family, there just weren't enough kids. I didn't have children, therefore, no grandchildren. Two of my brothers didn't have kids. One was married for ten years before he had kids. But his kids don't care about history. They only knew their grandparents in their childhood. They do not pursue activities with their remaining grandparents now that they are grown. They don't know old stories or care.

With my cousins, they just don't get together as a whole family. Their mothers are all gone, so they've dispersed. They have some minor interest in family history, but their kids do not.So I don't really have anyone to whom I can pass on my memories, my stories, my collectibles, or photographs, or genealogy. I have to care for those things just for my own enjoyment.

I don't want to leave any messes, or confusion, or hardship. I'm not afraid to die. I know I'll go someplace better. I dread the pain or the misery that may precede death. With enough of that, I may welcome death. I'm not entirely reconciled with the idea that I will be forgotten so soon. Like many people, I suppose that when the summary of my life is reviewed, I will be found wanting, that my years on earth may not have counted for much. We don't have angels named Clarence to show us that "It's a Wonderful Life", and we aren't all as good as George Bailey. Will I hear a heavenly voice say, "Well done!", ot will I hear, "Tch, tch. You could have done so much better." It just doesn't seem like one of those "oh well" moments in life that you can shrug off and pretend it doesn't matter.





 

We all want to be remembered when we are gone. We'd prefer to live forever in a healthy state, but if we have to die, then we want to be remembered well. We want our lives to have mattered to someone.

How we accomplish this remembrance changes according to our personalities. Some want to do establish scholarships or buildings or buisness bearing their names. Some want to be inventors or scientists discovering new diseases or new theories or processes. Some want to be immortalized in art or technology. Some seek immortality in politics, although I can't think of anyone who can possibly claim to be a statesman.

The more realistic seek to have children or grandchildren remember them through gifts or pictures or inheritances. It's not as common now, but many want to leave each family member something made with their own two hands, like a quilt or a craft. Some of us settle for the knowledge that we'll be forgotten when we're planted in the ground and the probate is settled.

I think it's one of the reasons writers like to write. We want to leave our words, our ideas behind. Even if our name doesn't sit on everyone's lips like Shakespeare or Poe, we want to believe that while we were living we thought something of lasting worth. How wonderful to think that our thoughts might still amuse, distract, instruct, or influence someone years after we're gone from this life! To be read, to be discussed, to be appreciated, even to be misunderstood, is to continue living.

And so we write that our words may outlive us.
 

Oh, Paul.
Whatever happened to "Please, Love Me Do" or "All We Need Is Love"? Now you've become partisan?

Disaster, Paul, first love of my life! Don't you know that all politicians inevitably sell out? No matter how pure they are when they start out, they all become tainted. Fund-raising and campaigning is only the beginning. It gets worse as they settle in and work to get what they want. They end up believing their own hype.

You, however, have been the poet, the musician, the sensitive soul, married faithfully to one woman until she died. When you got mixed up with that gold-digger who seemed too good to be true at first, everyone was on your side. You were, for so many, the good guy, the pure at heart, the generous, the amiable.

You have represented peace, love, helping hand, fellow man, no more land mines, etc. But as far as most of us know, you never got into bed with any politician. Now you're kissing up to a president who doesn't need that kind of publicity. It's working against him right now, when there's so much on his plate. You messed up, for him and you.

Not only is Obama a politician- and they always decline in character, he's a lawyer. And you know the old adage that even lawyer-author John Grisham passes on: You can tell if a lawyer is lying by whether or not his lips are moving.

He might not be the worst politician at the moment, but for you, the icon for several generations of goodness, truth, and love, publicly speaking our for a person in politics is wrong. Speak up for a cause. Speak on principle. Speak for someone who is not in public office, but not for anyone who needs votes or is actively campaigning for someone else to get votes.

It doesn't take a lot of study to determine that people who run campaigns are not volunteers. They aren't just speaking for their beliefs, if at all. They are master manipulators, sleek, and conniving. Your image has been anything but, until now.

Oh, Paul, we so wanted to believe that you were above all that. But no, you got down there and dirty. You sold out. Maybe you were hoodwinked, but it's too late to take it back. I know you meant to be supportive and strong, but you just came off as flaky. And, by the way, I liked the gray hair. Where did that go? You went from icon to washed up star in one night.

 

Memorial Day
by Joyce Kilmer

The bugle echoes shrill and sweet,
But not of war it sings to-day.
The road is rhythmic with the feet
Of men-at-arms who come to pray.

The roses blossom white and red
On tombs where weary soldiers lie;
Flags wave above the honored dead
And martial music cleaves the sky.

Above their wreath-strewn graves we kneel,
They kept the faith and fought the fight.
Through flying lead and crimson steel
They plunged for Freedom and the Right.

May we, their grateful children, learn
Their strength, who lie beneath this sod,
Who went through fire and death to earn
At last the accolade of God.

In shining rank on rank arrayed
They march, the legions of the Lord;
He is their Captain unafraid,
The Prince of Peace...Who brought a sword.

(From the "tree" poet. Another fine tribute to those who died in battle, but live in the words of poets.)





 

American Revolution Facts
Honoring The Dead
Memorial Day Dates
Memorial Day Flowers
Memorial Day Quotes
Memorial Day Reflections
Moment of Rememberance
Observe Memorial Day
Origin of Memorial Day
President Proclamation 2004
September 11


Memorial Day Poems
C-W-Johnson
Eula Gladys Lincoln
Freedom is not free
Joyce Kilmer
Not At My Grave
Peace
Taps
Theodosia Pickering Garrison
When I Am Gone
William Henry Clay Dodson


Memorial Day Songs
Ballad Green Berret
Christmas in the Trenches
Stars & Stripes Forever
The Star Spangled Banner
The Wall
When Johnny Comes
When The Warrior Returns







The Memorial Day poetry by Joyce Kilmer talks about the war dead.





Memorial Day » Memorial Day Poems » Memorial Day
Memorial Day
- Joyce Kilmer
The bugle echoes shrill and sweet,
But not of war it sings to-day.
The road is rhythmic with the feet
Of men-at-arms who come to pray.

The roses blossom white and red
On tombs where weary soldiers lie;
Flags wave above the honored dead
And martial music cleaves the sky.

Above their wreath-strewn graves we kneel,
They kept the faith and fought the fight.
Through flying lead and crimson steel
They plunged for Freedom and the Right.

May we, their grateful children, learn
Their strength, who lie beneath this sod,
Who went through fire and death to earn
At last the accolade of God.

In shining rank on rank arrayed
They march, the legions of the Lord;
He is their Captain unafraid,
The Prince of Peace...Who brought a sword.











Copyright © 2006 The Memorial Day Tribute

 

As the big celebritory weekend comes upon us, it is nice to remember it's more than some picnics, special sales, and a holiday for government workers. (Why do we tax payers give a paid holiday to government workers, when we don't get one?) Today, mostly for commercial reasoms, we remember all those whom we have lost. We'll place flowers on the graves of our loved ones and remember their faces, and long for them once more.

But we must also remember those who have given life and limb for their country. Regardless of how we feel about war, those who have fought and died on behalf of their country have done so believing that some things are worth dying for. If I say they died bravely, I do not imply they were without fear. Acting in the face of danger without fear is fool-heartedness. Acting despite the fear is courage.

I, for one, am grateful that so many have defended my country with their lives. I have lived in a country that has known mostly peace, freedom, and hope. Those intangibles come with a price. That price is marked with graves both here and abroad. It is fitting to recall the sacrifice, the bloodshed, the shattered families that have bought this freedom, this peace. While I dream of a world that does not wage war, that does not seek to end young lives, or destroy the innocent, I hope that the remembrance of those who have fallen will awaken a spirit in future generations to be wiling to stand up for their beliefs and to make the ultimate sacrifice when circumstances demand it. Let us honor the dead and pray they have not died in vain.
 

Okay. It's time to stand up for Arizona. Before jumping to conclusions and condemning those legislators, people, especially media and politicians, should read the new law. Then, if you still object, tell us how you plan to defend the people who live there from danger and property destruction.

The federal government has failed to defend them from criminals, from drug lords, from people who want to invade their property, and confiscate their belongings. These people are Americans. Don't we need to step up and defend fellow Americans? They are not saying keep out legitimate aliens, or alienate certain ethnic groups. They are saying, "Protect us from the guns, the drugs, the kidnappings, the carjackings, the ambushes." They aren't asking to send back people who have real jobs. They do want to control welfare and food stamps to criminals and people who have no plans to get jobs or set up permanent homes. They do want to stop the influx of drugs from China through Mesico into the US.

Safety first is my motto. Do what needs to be done to stop the violence and to protect the legal residents. Protect everyone from violence, even temporary residents! Stop the stealing, the looting, the destruction. The people of Arizona have a right to protect their lives, their families, their homes, and their businesses.

I'm not advocating blanket amnesty, but perhaps selective amnesty. Criminals and petty thieves don't deserve amnesty, no matter how long they've been here. I understand that many people come here to escape the violence of their Mexican homes. But if you come here, then make this your home and don't look back. You can't have it both ways. Don't bring the old ways along with you. If you want to uproot your life and seek a safer place, then be prepared for a new life in every way. Learn the new language, the new money exchange, and blend in. Don't make the new place change to your old lifestyle.

As for the boycott, what stupidity! It won't hurt them. But how can you want to punish fellow Americans? If tourists want to cancel their vacations to Arizona, then maybe they wouldn't fit in very well anyway. Besides, would a boycott even come close dollar-wise to the expense of arrests, extra police, hospitalizations, etc., as a result of the dangers experienced there?

Either step in and help build the fence, finance the border patrol, educate the children, and give medical and social aid or leave Arizona alone and let them protect themselves.