Reflections on Memorial Day

Having just co-facilitated the Veteran’s training this week, my military service and memorial day weigh heavily on my mind. Memorial Day in Israel is, obviously on a different day than in the United States. However, having had the privilege of serving with, and often times on behalf of the U.S. military, among other world armies during the tenure of my service, I can say with confidence that veterans around the world experience our memorial days very similarly.

In Israel I had the honor – more than once – of standing guard next to our eternal memorial flame. When we hold the memorial ceremony, across the country, at the exact same time a one minute siren can be heard blaring throughout the country: played in every city, town, village, moshav and kibbutz.

Everything – including traffic on the busiest of highways comes to a complete stop; people freeze in the crosswalk. If you’re on a bus you stand up. It’s hard to describe the sound of the siren while keeping guard over the eternal flame. It rushes through valleys and hills, through cities, and the desert, and it shoots through your chest; grabbing you by your heart strings. It’s the wail of countless soldiers who died in defense of their country, throughout history. In the language of anguish of the Warrior Class it says “remember me, I had hopes, and dreams too…I was a daughter…a son…too.”

Eventually the Siren ends and then there is a deafening silence. There are no “happy Memorial days.” There are only entire worlds that have ended, represented by individual families mourning their loved ones.  I, like so many veterans, cringe when someone thanks me for my service. I cringe equally when anyone calls me, or other soldiers heroes. Heroes are those that we stand guard for, and who we miss terribly. As I do every memorial day, I pray for the only thing any veteran can ever want: peace.