When we were kids my sister and I used to go with my grandparents to Calvary Cemetery in Waterbury every Memorial Day. My great-grandfather was buried there. He had served in the army during the First World War and had died years later due to exposure to chemical weapons. Needless to say I had never met the man. Still, going to his grave every Memorial Day was important to my grandparents, which made it important to me.
Now both my grandparents have passed on. They're buried at the veteran’s cemetery up in Middletown, for my grandfather served this country during the Battle of the Bulge (he was severely wounded in combat). I try to get up to visit my grandparent's grave every year around this time. The question that pops into my head, however, is who's visiting my great-grandfather's grave now?
The answer is most likely no one...and that's understandable. The man passed away over seventy years ago, after all. Yet the whole thing perfectly illustrates how easy it is to be forgotten. And our vets don't deserve to be forgotten. These are people who've gone through a lot – a whole lot – on our behalf. I've got a brother in law doing his second tour in Afghanistan right now and I'm willing to bet his bad days are a lot worse than my bad days.
The point here is that we have to be grateful, even (and perhaps especially) to those vets who everyone has forgotten. Whether it's a returning hero or a soldier from long ago whose grave is covered in moss, vets are literally responsible for the relatively easy ride the rest of us have today.
Not only is that something worth remembering. It's something worth celebrating, too.
