I didn’t know this, but Memorial Day used to be referred to as “Decoration Day.” On this day, the custom was (and still is) to decorate the graves of fallen soldiers with flags, Red poppies or coins.
The coins are an interesting tradition. Leaving one on the headstone of a soldier sends a message to their family. It’s a way of saying, “your family member and their service is not forgotten.”
You can learn more about what each coin represents here
My paternal grandfather has been on my mind, lately, as I contemplate EU citizenship. I know very little about him other than he was a Captain in the Polish cavalry who lost his life in WWII. My father was three years old when the Germans invaded Warsaw and my grandmother and he fled Poland -never to see Captain Bierko, again.
It’s not a stretch to say that his death resonates in our family to this day. My father had no dad to teach him how to be a husband or father
and, consequently, could not pass much onto me or my brother. My grandmother, Nana Stephanie, mourned his loss for the test of her life, wearing black and telling us that she had lost “the love of my life.” The legacy of war, it seems, affects not just the fallen soldier, but his family, too.
On this day, I hold a thought and send a prayer to the soldiers and their families. Although I am a pacifist, I recognize that their lives were given in service to their country, to an ideal that moved them to put their lives in harm’s way. I respect that.
I also recognize the lives lost and the suffering taking place right now throughout the world. War continues to be hell for many and the cost, literally and figuratively, resides inside each one of us. Sadly, men still choose violence to solve their problems and its impact weighs us down.
I can honor those that have fallen and question the reasons they died simultaneously. I blame war mostly on politicians, small-minded men who send sons into battle. On this day, I acknowledge the bravery of these soldiers and mourn their loss. (I mourn, also, for the citizens of the world who are often innocent victims of these aggressions.) I am thankful for their service and sad/angry that they often die or are wounded defending a piece of land or an ideology.
Sigh.
Returning to my own family, I thank my grandfather, Captain Bierko. He loved his wife and son and his country. I wish we had known him and I hope he and his fellow soldiers rest in peace.
And, lastly, I pray that we elect leaders who see war as a last resort. Too many have died. Too many suffer. Amen.
In Flanders Fields
BY JOHN MCCRAE
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.