I was raised to be deeply patriotic. I come from a massive family line of military men, along with female doctors and nurses who dedicated their lives to helping others. Service, sacrifice, love of country, and respect for those who wear the uniform were not things I learned later in life, they were woven into my childhood from the very beginning.
Some of my earliest memories were spent at American Legion halls multiple days a week. It became such a huge part of my life that I eventually became the captain of our Junior Drill Team. I volunteered with Veterans, listened to their stories, admired their strength, and learned very young that freedom is never free. It is paid for in sacrifice, in grief, in blood, in broken families, in injuries that never fully heal, and in lives forever changed.
I love our military. I love our soldiers. I honor every sacrifice that has afforded me the freedoms I have today.
Memorial Day has never really been about massive parties or getting drunk for me. I enjoy a good barbecue like anyone else, but my heart has always leaned toward something quieter, more personal, more reflective. Over the years I formed traditions of my own, traditions that make me feel connected to the brave men and women who gave everything for this country.
And if I’m being honest, Memorial Day is not just about those who died. It is also about the wounded, the injured, the ones who came home carrying invisible scars, and the families who sacrificed alongside them. Their pain matters too. Their service matters too. My love and appreciation for all of them will never end.
One of the traditions I started as an adult was visiting military cemeteries during Memorial Day weekend. I would walk among rows of tombstones belonging to people I had never met and knew nothing about, and somehow still feel connected to them. I would clean their headstones, wash away dirt and grime, place flowers there for them, and then look them up online afterward so I could learn who they were. I wanted them remembered. I wanted somebody to say their name again.
That became my way of honoring them.
When I adopted my daughter, I shared this tradition with her. One year after we had spent the day cleaning tombstones and planting flowers, she asked me if she could pick out one grave to sit beside alone for a little while and talk to them. Of course I said yes.
We sat together for a moment while I looked the person up online and told her about their life and service. She listened carefully, soaking in every detail. Then finally she looked at me and asked me to walk away so she could be alone with them.
I still remember standing off in the distance watching her sit there quietly beside that tombstone. I could not hear what she was saying, but I will never forget the sight of her tiny fingers tracing the letters of their name.
I never asked her what she talked about that day. I think some moments are too sacred to interrupt. But I remember how proud I was of her. I remember feeling overwhelmingly connected to the people resting there. And from that year on, we changed the tradition to include that special quiet moment every single year.
To this day, it remains one of the most meaningful traditions of my life.
Recently I shared all of this with my Masters, and hearing how much they appreciated it honestly made me emotional. Both of them said they wanted to be included, and so did Tova. Knowing that we are going to continue this tradition together as a group makes me incredibly happy, especially because losing my eyesight has made it difficult for me to get out there and do these things on my own the way I used to.
This year things looked a little different. With Tova being long distance right now and Damon having surgery in the next day or two, we decided not to visit the cemeteries this Memorial Day weekend. But we still chose to honor history together in our own way. We spent time discussing it, remembering it, and this year we chose to watch Midway.
First, I have to say, for what Hollywood can sometimes be, I truly think Midway was an amazing film. I feel like they genuinely tried to do justice to these brave men and women. I want more movies like that. I want more stories told. I want their lives remembered.
The Battle of Midway was one of the greatest turning points of World War II for the United States. It shifted us from defense into offense, and the sheer luck, bravery, sacrifice, and determination behind those men was extraordinary. There were moments during that battle where it truly felt like somebody somewhere had to be watching over them.
I think we may add this to our tradition now, spending the day at cemeteries honoring those who served, sharing a beautiful dinner in their memory, and ending the night curled up together watching a war movie or history documentary.
Even though, truthfully, war movies hit very differently for me these days. Ever since my youngest brother served one tour in Afghanistan and three in Iraq, it reaches deeper than it once did. It becomes personal in a way that is difficult to explain unless you have loved someone who wore that uniform.
So however you choose to spend Memorial Day weekend, I hope it is safe, meaningful, and full of gratitude. I hope it connects you to the people who came before you. I hope it humbles you to remember that there are men and women who gave their lives so that we could live freely today.
And to every service member who sacrificed everything for people like me, there are truly no words that could ever fully explain how thankful I am for you. Your courage, your sacrifice, and your memory will never be forgotten. You live on forever in the hearts of those who still remember.
Happy Memorial Day!!!