Something is fading

We are losing something; something that every generation loses. When it is lost, it becomes simply a list of facts called history.  But facts and history don’t even begin to describe this something.  They don’t make you feel, they don’t make you begin to understand.  Facts and history are just not real to most people.  

They aren't real because they never saw it, felt it, experienced it.  They only read about it in a book or maybe saw a documentary.  This something is real.  This something is disappearing.

I say something, but it’s really a lot of something’s.  It’s a lot of men, and women.  It’s a lot of leaders and a lot of followers.  It’s time and life.  It is real not just with those who experienced it, but with their families as well.  But as generations pass, so does the feeling and the reality.

What is this something? You say.  It is the greatest generation. It’s in the heartbeat, memory, passion, and heart of every WWII veteran.  It’s in their spouses, and their children.  It’s in their stories.  It’s in their passion for this country they believed in and loved so much.

And as their lives continue to fade into the history books, unfortunately their passion and their stories do too.

My dad’s stories live in me and will for the remainder of my life.  I feel like many of those stories have more value to me than any earthly possession. 

He told stories of ships, planes, guns, invasions, fires, explosions, bombs, and much more.  As a child, those were my takeaways from those stories.  But as a man, it became clear that his stories were about people.  He fought and lived alongside many men who died for their country.  He felt the pain, he felt the desperation, he felt the agony of loss and defeat, and he felt the amazing but costly feeling of victory.  He always remembered the faces and the real lives.  Yes the memories had smiles and laughter; but they also had fear, terror, and death.

The stories my dad told painted pictures.  They always seemed real to me.  They were real because he was on that ship and in those battles, many battles.  He felt the explosion as that Kamikaze dove into his ship.  He felt the heat from the fire, and the water from the fire hose he carried.  He helped the injured and pulled the dead out of the wreckage.  And that was just one morning out of years of service not just for my dad, but for scores of others.

The stories always ring in my head, and in my heart.  My dad represents his generation very well.  He passed away several years ago, and with him most of these great men and yes women are passing.  They will soon be gone, and so will their vivid stories.

That is, unless we refuse to let those stories fade. 

I will not let the memories and the stories be lost.  My dad and his shipmate’s memories and stories deserve to live on.  They should be remembered, honored, and repeated with the same passion in which they were told.  I will share them with my kids, and hopefully with their kids. 

We must remember the sacrifices, and we must remember that they were real, not just history.

On this Memorial Day Weekend, don’t just barbecue, swim, fish, or play.  Remember those who fought, served, lived, died.  Share their stories and honor them.