Memorial Day, Their final gift: It’s all about honor

Once the winter snows are behind us, we begin to look forward to summer. Kick-off has traditionally been Memorial Day weekend at the end of May. And, for some, that’s the biggest thing to plan for with the coming of the long weekend. Even when the weather isn’t particularly cooperative, people carry on with family picnics under shelters, in barns or garages, or indoors. They might have to turn up the heater in the swimming pool, but summer is coming and, by golly, they are going to celebrate!

Sometimes lost in all the summer hoopla is a ceremony of honor so sacred that, like Sunday church, it is either avoided or simply acknowledged in passing. The chief importance of this weekend is not the start of summer; the chief importance is the sacrament of honoring the thousands of American men and women who sacrificed their lives for the benefit of each one of us on Memorial Day. The young individuals with freckled faces who might have still answered to childhood nicknames like Junior, or Sally Jo, and who had families and communities that loved them, those individuals with dreams and hopes and future plans, those individuals who laughed and loved and cried and feared yet still took the oath to protect us - it is their sacrifice which made it possible for us to have the privilege of this three-day weekend to enjoy. It didn’t just happen - it is not a willy nilly date on a calendar. No, it happened because of their final actions, their grit, their determination, and their courage even when overwhelmed by stark fear and dread. It happened because some never made it back to claim those future hopes that sparkled in their hopeful eyes. You see, they would love to join in the fun. But they can’t. They died - on bloody battlefields, sunken ships, shot-down aircraft, in field hospitals or, like my dad, or maybe your parent, or your husband or your son or your daughter - inch by inch, returning from the battlefront scarred, wounded, sick in body and soul, doomed to remember - forever changed.

The Sullivan brothers

A black sedan arrived at the Sullivan home. The three men in Naval uniforms had been welcomed inside. They were delivering the feared news. “The Navy Department deeply regrets to inform you that your sons Albert, Francis, George, Joseph and Madison Sullivan are missing in action in the South Pacific." The Sullivan brothers were five brothers from Waterloo, Iowa who served together on the light cruiser USS Juneau. They were all killed in action when Juneau served in the Naval battle of Guadalcanal, November 13, 1942. A year after their deaths, President Franklin D. Roosevelt ordered the launch of a new destroyer called "The Sullivans." Christened by the first mother since the Civil War to lose five sons in defense of freedom, The Sullivans served in World War II and Korea and is now on display in Buffalo, NY at Canalside.

Walter Panek

Richard P. Ester

Per Statista.com, to date, the numbers are up for debate and could be substantially higher (poor records were kept in the Civil war) but as of their 2024 report, there were 1,304,708 military fatalities on the battlefields from wars 1775 to 2024. 1,304,708 loved ones. These numbers do not include those who came home and died afterward of war-wounds (physical or mental). Nor do they include the 17.6 veteran suicides per day cited by the 2024 report from the VA.

War is never glorious. Coming home in a flag-draped casket or bringing the war home in a scarred heart and body may be the stuff that tales of valor are made of, but it’s always ugly and gut-wrenching and painful and terrifying and simply God-awful. In a word, war is hell. And our American military bore that hell on their collective shoulders. In a strange way, it was their parting gift to each and every one of us. Who were these people to you? Was it a parent, grandparent, child, uncle, niece/nephew, loved one? Did you know them? Did you love them? Did you grieve them instantly when the military knocked on your door, or did you grieve them day by day, inch by inch as you watched them suffer as they relived their personal agony every day?

I know that prolonged grief, as have so many of you. THAT is why we set aside Memorial Day as a collective day of mourning and gratitude and awe and inspiration and humility. Before you hit the ball and run for first base, or dive into the big bowl of potato salad, why not take time to honor these heroes upon whom our life of liberty and privilege is built? Thank them for their final gift and fly your flag - half-staff until noon, wear a poppy (get them at the Legion any time before the Monday’s service), post a tribute on your social media, spend time with loved ones - visit a veteran, or visit a cemetery. Take a flag in case one was not placed on your person’s grave and remember to take a pocketful of coins to leave behind - pennies indicate you visited while other denominations show closer service-related relationships from bootcamp to being there when they died. If you see a quarter, say a special prayer for both of them.

Communities everywhere hold commemorative services (ours in Ellicottville is 11:00am at the Gazebo (Dale Dunkleman said there will be a very special surprise guest speaker), with refreshments following at the American Legion. Remember, rather than saying “Happy Memorial Day,” say something like “Have a meaningful Memorial Day.” Finally, join everyone in the nation, in every time zone at 3:00pm your time, and offer a minute of silence - and gratitude - and respect for our deceased American veterans. Reverently say a veteran’s name - and remember them out loud. It has been said that the greatest tragedy of all is to be forgotten. Always remember.

Memorial Day: Their Final Gift