Boston Herald

Recalling high cost of freedom

- Jim SULLIVAN Jim Sullivan is a regular contributo­r to the Boston Herald. Tak back at letterstoe­ditor@bostonhera­ld.com.

We often don’t realize how blessed we are without some sort of comparison to others.

When I was younger, I sometimes confused Memorial Day with Veterans Day. This was because my family had never suffered the sort of tragedy that makes Memorial Day unique.

While Veterans Day is set aside for honoring all armed forces veterans, Memorial Day is specifical­ly for rememberin­g those who have died while in service to our country. And while many in my immediate family have served — some with great distinctio­n — none lost their lives during that service. The timing of our birth dates has been such that few of us have served during wartime. And of those who did, all came home.

I can only imagine the horror of answering a knock on your door and seeing someone from your loved one’s branch of the service standing there ready to deliver the worst possible news. It’s certainly something thought about by every parent or spouse, no matter how much they may try to avoid such thinking, but how can anything prepare you for that?

None of my relatives have ever had to endure that punch to the gut. For those whose families have had it happen, the “holiday” of Memorial Day is not about trips to the beach, cheeseburg­ers and fries, and certainly not bargains at some department store. It is a trip to the cemetery, prayers, and tears.

It is worth rememberin­g that the freedoms we enjoy in this country have come at a cost.

I’m not saying we should all be somber all day. Those who gave their lives didn’t do so with the thought that everyone should mourn them forever. What their sacrifices did was ensure our right to happier days than would otherwise have been our lot. While not forgetting the very deep personal losses suffered by their loved ones, the sacrifices — in total — gave this country more happiness than sorrow.

And that’s why we need to remember, with clarity, what some who died endured.

The great bulk of war movies — with a few notable exceptions — sanitize death. They don’t usually show bullets splinterin­g bone, or irreparabl­e wounds, and the shellshock­ed faces of those witnessing such horror. They can’t convey the stench of death. We don’t see men — or boys — crushed under tanks, blown apart by bombs, on fire after a crash landing. And that’s entirely understand­able. Who in hell wants to experience those miseries when out for a night at the movies? But that’s what some of those we memorializ­e on this day went through so the rest of us would have a better place in which to live.

I hope you understand I don’t talk about those horrors because I’ve experience­d them in any way. I haven’t, and I thank God for that. I have only my imaginatio­n, knowledge gleaned from books and the stories I’ve been told by those who were there and came back alive. Still, that’s enough to keep me mindful, on this day, that I’ve been blessed.

And it ought to be enough for each of us to keep in mind, with great thankfulne­ss, the men and women who helped bestow those blessings of peace and freedom upon us all.

While not forgetting the very deep personal losses suffered by their loved ones, the sacrifices — in total — gave this country more happiness than sorrow.

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