Reflecting on Memorial Day

This time of year—though any season can prompt remembrance—is especially fitting for reflection. When Memorial Day arrives, I often think of my great uncle, Jon, who was like a third grandfather to me as I was growing up. With his stern demeanor, he was never afraid to wrestle his brother’s grandkids to the ground (playfully, of course). My brother and I would laugh as he became animated over the smallest things. Whether he was debating current events with his brother or extolling the virtues of a particular tractor make and model, his lively passion was endlessly entertaining.

Tragically, Jon’s life ended too soon in his battle with leukemia—the final struggle he fought and ultimately lost. He had served in the Vietnam War as a noncombatant field medic, yet he was always hesitant to speak of the traumatic experiences he endured. He witnessed humanity’s darkest moments while doing everything in his power to shine a light amid the surrounding darkness. His service left him with scars both physical and mental. On the Fourth of July, he would take measures to insulate his home from the thunderous fireworks, and his nights were haunted by the muffled echoes of grief: images of buildings aflame, chaotic firefights, and wounds too deep for human hands to heal. His exposure to Agent Orange—a chemical used to defoliate the jungles of Vietnam—led to his later development of leukemia.

To all the veterans reading these words, thank you. Thank you for the battles you fought abroad on our behalf and for those you continue to fight at home. Thank you to the families who stand by our veterans as they endure their own long struggles. Most of all, thank you, God, for giving us a home beyond the tumult of this world—a home where Jon can once again fill our lives with laughter and where all is peace.

— Benjamin Lawson