A Memorial Day tribute to my father

“When they [the American soldiers] came, they found fit comrades for their courage and their devotion.... Joining hands with them, the men of America gave the greatest of all gifts, the gift of life and the gift of spirit.” ~Woodrow Wilson

Memorial Day is a time I think of my father. He served in the army for about four years during World War II. He was stationed in England, Italy, and Northern Africa. He served as a radio operator, sometimes for generals, other times in tanks during gruesome battles. He didn’t talk much about his wartime experiences, so I have few tales to share. Most in his company of nearly one hundred were not lucky enough to come home. Only a couple survived. After what he’d seen, he maintained an unyielding focus of appreciating life, grateful he survived to come home. He held so tightly to that ideal, he left it as an indelible mark on my outlook, for which I am always grateful.

Dad was a veteran and lived a long life after an honorable discharge, dying at age 79. But he also gave his life for his country. He was shipped stateside after suffering with a reaction following exposure to a war toxin. It drastically inhibited his ability to make red blood cells. He arrived home from the army hospital weighing just under 100 pounds, at a height of five-foot five…hide and bones. He suffered with severe anemia the rest of his adult life, and eventually the damages to his bone marrow turned cancerous.

Life is precious…thank you, Dad.