D-Day

My father passed away this past week. I've pretty much been on auto-pilot ever since. I want to write more about the last few days, but it is all still very raw and painful. So instead of focusing on his death, I'd like to focus some more about his life and the things he left me with. I know my entries of late have already been a bit on the emotional side, but I hope you will bear with me as writing helps me both heal and honor him as best I can.

Today is the 66th Anniversary of the D-Day invasion. Now, my father was a very patriotic man, but he never served in the military. Dad was in the ROTC in high school, and he and his classmates proudly stood honor guard in East Point, GA as the train carrying the body of President Franklin Roosevelt returned to Washington, DC from Warm Springs, GA following his death in 1945.

He planned on enlisting after high school and follow in the footsteps of several of his uncles and older cousins, but was turned down because of a broken arm (football injury) that never healed correctly and impacted his ability to hold and fire a rifle properly. So instead, he went on to college at Georgia State. Shortly after that, his own father passed away suddenly and Dad left school to go to work in order to help his mother take care of his younger brother and baby sister. But he was so very proud when his younger brother Paul grew up and joined the Navy during the Korean War.

As I was growing up, Dad always wanted to make sure that I was aware of the sacrifices that others made so that we could live free. Every year a few days before the school year started, Dad would call me out into the backyard where we would sit on the steps, and he would give me "The Speech." The Speech was the talk he gave me to explain how lucky we were in our country be provided with the opportunity to go to school and receive a good education. He would explain how children in some parts of the world didn't have that chance, and how in some countries, little girls were not afforded an opportunity to go to school at all. Then, he would explain to me that while I would pay nothing for my education, many who came before me had paid the ultimate price. Therefore, my only job as a child was to study hard, do my school work and ensure that I got all I could out of my education so that those men did not die in vain.

Me & my brother Steve at Pearl Harbor on the anchor of the USS Arizona

Through the years, our many vacations would take us to locations where he would reinforce the story of military sacrifice. I was 7 years old when our family went to Honolulu on vacation and visited Pearl Harbor.

Dad, Me & Steve on the boat to the USS Arizona Memorial

As the boat took us across the water to the memorial over the USS Arizona, Dad pointed to the oil still seeping up from the ship almost 30 years after it was sunk. He said they were the Tears of the Arizona, and he told me what he remembered as a 12 year old boy on that December day in 1942 when we were attacked. (Years later, as the events of 9-11 occurred, I understood some of what he must have felt that day.)

Wall of casualties at the USS Arizona Memorial in Pearl Harbor

When we reached the big white memorial, with the names of almost 1,200 who were lost that day etched in the the marble wall, he reminded me that these were some of the men who paid for my education. It made quiet an impression on this 7 year old.

Some years later, as a 19 year old college student, I went with Mom and Dad on a European vacation. During the trip, we rode a hovercraft over the English Channel from the White Cliffs of Dover to the Beaches near Normandy.

Omaha Beach as seen from the Normandy American Cemetery

As we reached the coast of France, the hovercraft took a slight detour from the direct route and took us out towards Omaha Beach where you could see where part of the D-Day landing occurred. It was overcast that day and there was a foggy mist in the air, and I felt a cold shiver as we made the approach. I wondered how those young infantry men who were probably about my age at the time must have felt that early morning almost 40 years earlier as they waited on the order for the assault to begin. Everything seemed to go quite around me, the sound of the hovercraft, the voices of the other passenger. It was surreal silence that was probably only occurring in my head. And as I looked over to my Dad sitting next to me, I could see the tears in his eyes.

Normandy American Cemetery at Colleville-sur-Mer

I saw those same tears, and matched them with my own, a few hours later when we visited the American cemetery in Colleville-sur-Mer where the bodies of over 9,000 American servicemen who paid for my education were laid to rest.

Now I wasn't always a straight A student, and I'm not going to pretend I came home from this trip and suddenly made Dean's List every quarter. But I've always tried my best, and I've always remembered my Daddy's lessons and the sacrifice of those young men.

I'll end this with a quote from the movie Saving Private Ryan. "I've tried to live my life the best I could. I hope that was enough. I hope that at least in your eyes, I've earned what all of you have done for me."