Thanks For Remembering . . .
Many things are written about The Wall, but never anything of being on the
other side. I was inspired by the above famous painting by
Lee Teter,
Reflections,
and Don Poss' Autumn's Wall story. For me, and I hope for you,
Reflections, and Autumn's Wall, revealed the Wall's emotion
and healing power. Now remember that walk we all began in Vietnam, and
know that it will be completed . . .
Several members of my unit, and many that I did not recognize, have called
me to The Wall by touching my name engraved upon it. The tears aren't
necessary, but are hard even for me to hold back. Don't feel guilty for
not being with me, my Brothers. This was my destiny as it is yours, to
be on that side of The Wall. Touch The Wall, my Brothers, so that we can
share in the memories that we had. I have learn to put the bad memories
aside and remember only the pleasant times that we had together. Tell our
other Brothers out there to come and visit me, not to say Goodbye but to
say Hello and be together again . . . even for a short time . . . and to
ease that pain of loss that we all still share.
Today, an irresistible and loving call summons me to The Wall. As I approach, I
can see an elderly lady ... and as I get closer, I recognize her---It's
Momma! As much as I have looked forward to this day, I have also
dreaded it, because I didn't know what reaction I would have.
Next to her, I suddenly see my wife and immediately think how hard it must
have been for her to come to this place, and my mind floods with the
pleasant memories of 30 years past. There's a young man in a military
uniform standing with his arm around her---My God!---he has to be my
son! Look at him trying to be the man without a tear in his eye. I
yearn to tell him how proud I am, seeing him standing tall, straight and
proud in his uniform.
Momma comes closer and touches The Wall, and I feel the soft and
gentle touch I had not felt in so many years. Dad has crossed to this side
of The Wall, and through our touch, I try to convey to her that Dad is
doing fine and is no longer suffering or feeling pain. I see my wife's
courage building as she sees Momma touch The Wall and she approaches and
lays her hand on my waiting hand. All the emotions, feelings and memories of
three decades past flash between our touch and I tell her that . . . it's
alright . . . carry on with your life and don't worry about me . . . .
I can see as I look into her eyes that she hears and a big burden has been
lifted from her on wings of understanding.
I watch as they lay flowers and other memories of my past. My lucky charm
that was taken from me and sent to her by my CO . . . a tattered and worn
teddy bear that I can barely remember having as I grew up as a child . . .
and several medals that I had earned and were presented to my wife. One is
the Combat Infantry Badge that I am very proud of, and I notice that my son
is also wearing this medal. I had earned mine in the jungles of Vietnam and
he had probably earned his in the deserts of Iraq.
I can tell that they are preparing to leave, and I try to take a mental
picture of them together, because I don't know when I will see them again.
I wouldn't blame them if they were not to return, and can only thank them
that I was not forgotten. My wife and Momma near The Wall for one final
touch, and so many years of indecision fear and sorrow are let go. As they
turn to leave, I feel my tears that had not flowed for so many years, form
as if dew drops on the other side of The Wall.
They slowly move away with only a glance over their shoulders. My son
suddenly stops and slowly returns. He stands straight and proud in front of
me and snaps a salute. Something draws him near The Wall and he puts
his hand upon etched stone and touches my tears that had formed dew
drops on the face of The Wall . . . and I can tell that he senses my
presence and the pride and love I have for him. He falls to his knees and
the tears flow from his eyes and I try my best to reassure him that
it's alright, and the tears do not make him less of a man. As he moves back wiping the
tears from his eyes, he silently mouths, "God Bless you, Dad . . . ."
God Bless, YOU, Son . . . we WILL meet someday, but in the meanwhile, go on
your way . . . there is no hurry . . . there is no hurry at all.
As I see them walk off in the distance, I yell out to THEM and EVERYONE
there today, as loud as I can:
At first there was no place for us to go until someone put up that "Black
Granite Wall." Now, everyday and night, my Brothers and my Sisters wait to
see the many people from places afar file in front of this "Wall." Many
stopping briefly and many for hours and some that come on a regular basis.
It was hard at first, not that it's gotten any easier, but it seems that
many of the attitudes towards that Vietnam war we were involved in have
changed. I can only pray that the ones on the other side have learn
something, and more "Walls" as this one, needn't be built.
THANKS FOR REMEMBERING!
THANKS FOR REMEMBERING!
THANKS FOR REMEMBERING!
THANKS FOR REMEMBERING!
THANKS FOR REMEMBERING!