American Military Hero
Tracy Lee • April 13, 2020
When I was a young woman, I lived in Nice France. One day, as a friend and I were sitting at a sidewalk café, a few young men walked by and in an instant, the entire café was buzzing with excited conversation. The young men were the topic and cause of the excitement, for at first glance, although they were dressed like any other young men, one could instantly see that these young men were definitely not French; these young men were Americans. Their nationality was not the cause of excitement. No, the cause for excitement was that these young men were indeed American military men.
I was surprised at the enthusiasm among the French patrons. I had been somewhat prejudiced in my opinion while studying French in high school, that the French were not terribly impressed with Americans, and perhaps even less impressed with American military service members. Nevertheless, it was evident that my education had been somewhat askew. As I watched the young men pass by the cafe, I was surprised at my own excitement. I felt such pride that these young men were representative of my nation. I felt such safety knowing that they were there in the same city in which I resided. I also experienced tremendous honor deep within my soul as I witnessed the respect the French had for their military service.
Throughout my life, I have never forgotten that moment. It had a monumental impact on my life’s views. It was one of those moments where one realizes she has received an epiphany of knowledge that has changed her understanding, and that she will never be able to forget, change, or deny that knowledge as long as she lives. At that moment, I realized that America was different than other nations because the hearts of her people are different. Our motivations, our focus, and our efforts are directional, and we are driven to improve life for ourselves and others. Moreover, the French people surrounding me realized it too. The chance passing of these fine American troops inspired tears and adulations among the patrons of the café. More importantly to me, however, was that it filled my soul with an appreciation for the bravery and boldness of American service members who travel the world, at their own peril, to bring safety, relief, and prosperity to others. I realized it, and I witnessed the French people around me exude it.
I did not know at that moment that the American military would be a significant influence in my life, but nearly four years later, I met and married an American military service member. My husband was stationed in San Diego CA, and our three daughters were born there. Being a military wife was by far the most difficult thing I have ever experienced. Worrying about one's husband as he was called upon to travel to distant shores, liberate oppressed nations, and offer humanitarian relief, are experiences which separate women from girls. To provide liberty, the American serviceman heads into battle, risking his life and his family’s future. His quest to annihilate oppression is so overwhelmingly brave and yet gracious that it reaches beyond human logic. These are the men of the American military. Their spiritual strengths motivate them to risk everything precious.
When my husband returned from the 1st Gulf war, we traveled together to France to celebrate our anniversary and his safe return to our family. We visited and stayed with a French family in Freneuse France. Our experience with this family was humbling as they took us to the shores of Normandy and expressed their gratitude for the American servicemen. We visited the American cemeteries where row upon row of US Troops lay resting after their ultimate sacrifices on behalf of the European oppressed. We sat at our friend’s home as visitor after visitor came by to meet and have tea with us. One after another, they openly expressed their gratitude for their nation’s liberation and shared their familial history and impact of freedom as it was restored to them by American troops. As it had so many years before in the beautiful city of Nice France, my respect for American bravery and sacrifice swelled within my heart. This time, however, the intensity of my experience as a military wife magnified the profoundness of death suffered by American troops and their survivors.
As a funeral director, I often direct military service member’s last services. The military honors provided by the Department of Defense are awe inspiring. This past weekend, I directed a service for a Vietnam Veteran. As I sat in my arrangement room with his wife, finalizing the details of his service, we discussed his military honors. The services needed a brief delay allowing his grandson travel time home from his duty station. He had followed his grandfather’s heroic example and was in the service of his nation some distance away. As we continued our interview, I realized that this Vietnam Veteran had passed his desire to serve through the generations of his family. He had two sons, as well as, his grandson who were service members. His widow preferred that rather than strangers render his military honors, his sons and grandson lovingly provide them.
The pall bearers carried the wartime hero to his final resting place, and his grave was dedicated as hallowed ground. The boatswain's pipe blew a final farewell, and the last bell rang signaling to all that a hero had departed. Just before taps rang true, three men stepped out of ranks and marched to the casket. They lifted the flag and with great care, folded it into a beautiful field of blue with white stars. The sons relinquished the folded flag to the grandson, and as he called his about face, he marched over to his grandmother. Handsomely dressed in his crisp uniform, he thanked his grandmother for her husband’s brave service, tearfully handed her the folded flag on behalf of a grateful nation, and slowly and methodically saluted the final moment his grandfather’s body remained above ground.
That was it. That was goodbye. It was beautiful, spiritual, emotional, ceremonial, and wholly inadequate for the service and sacrifices given by an American hero. Amazing American heroes lie in graves all across the world with untold stories of selflessness and sacrifice, and their families mourn their loss. Giving a folded flag to the survivor of an American hero seems too trivial unless you understand the symbolism of its colors as adopted from the Great Seal.
"…White signifies purity and innocence, Red, hardiness & valour, and Blue signifies vigilance, perseverance & justice." (Charles Thompson, Secretary of the Continental Congress,1777)
"The star is a symbol of the heavens and the divine goal to which man has aspired from time immemorial; the stripe is symbolic of the rays of light emanating from the sun." (1977, House of Representatives)
A hero is a hero by nature, not by choice. They perform heroics because it is who they are, not because they desire accolades. A folded American flag is probably the greatest form of respect one could give an American hero. It embodies the very spirit of American loyalty and sacrifice, America’s principles of liberty and justice, and the selfless nature of American military heroes.
American military families suffer the pain and anguish that their service members experience as they serve for liberty and justice across the globe. They come together on the day of burial with heavy hearts and lay to rest their American heroes as they receive their folded flags and emotionally listen to the bugler’s final notes of honor and respect. As Pearl Harbor Day approaches, I recall the recognition and regard offered as the American servicemen walked past the sidewalk café in Nice France. I remember the gratitude expressed by our friends and their neighbors who experienced the great liberation of Normandy. Pearl Harbor Day is an American Day of Remembrance. People who are grateful for and humbled by, the pure sacrifices of our great American military heroes also remember it.
The past two weeks have been difficult for me. I have suffered the loss of a dear friend and have served families that have suffered great losses. The COVID-19 pandemic has caused unwarranted loss, stress, and heartache to so many people this year. Not only have we lost loved ones, but we have lost our economy, our comfort, and our security as Americans. Everywhere I look, it seems that people are rude and uncaring toward each other when what we need is love. I wish we could be kind to each other, considerate to each other, and help each other through our difficulties rather than burning cities, burning businesses, and tearing apart what makes up great, our Union. Americans are the most blessed people in the world. We live in a time of convenience and wealth. Why is it then that we can’t add kindness and respect to our society? Why must there be murders and brutal attacks on innocent people walking down the street? I work with families every day who would give all that they have for just one more moment with their loved one to say, “I’m sorry” or “I love you.” Time is so precious, but even more precious is the way that we treat others. For if we treat others with contempt, we will reap the bitter reward of hatred. Hate eats a person from the inside out, and no matter how hard a hateful person tries to find happiness, it will never come to them. I know this because I see it every day. A hateful heart has no room for happiness. Happiness only comes to those who love. Love is like light. Light is the only thing that is stronger than the dark. If you have a completely dark room and you strike a match, the light from that match will push the darkness away and light up the room. Conversely, if you have a room filled with light and you cup your hands to create a spot of darkness. As soon as you open your hands, the dark is gone. Light overpowers it just as love overpowers hate. Love is the only thing that is stronger than hate. If you strike an ember of love in the heart of someone full of hate, love will grow and overtake their hatred. In my profession, love is very important. I see all too often those who have pushed love aside thinking that they were winning an argument or for some other ridiculous reason. What I see when this happens is that at the end of life, those who were foolish and let hatred get the best of them suffer the most. They remain miserable for the rest of their lives. Don’t be one of these people. Don’t let hatred get the best of you. And most assuredly, let us not allow hatred to overtake our country. I don’t want to live in a world filled with hatred and discontent. I want happiness and love for all. I especially want love in your life when you suffer loss because believe me, when the grim reaper knocks, it’s too late to cry for one more moment to say, “I’m sorry” or “I love you.” At that moment, the weight of hatred crushes every hope you ever had to make amends, to accomplish happiness, or to right any wrong you may have perpetrated. It’s too late and you are the person who will suffer the consequences of your vicious actions. You are the person who will have no friends, no love, and who will die alone; miserable because of your hatred and terrible deeds. I know because I see it in so many people who thought they could just make a statement, a judgment, or an action and not suffer the consequences. In the end, it’s the hateful people who suffer the consequences. They die alone without love or support. Their needs are not met and they writhe in misery. I lost a dear friend this past week. He was kind, loving, and good. He made the world a better place, and he made my life happier through his actions of kindness toward me. I wish everyone alive could have known my friend. Christ died to make man holy, and my friend John took up his offer. John was a holy man. He lived his life serving others, teaching others, and helping anyone who needed help. He was filled with love and he shared his love with those who needed it. If we could all be like John, the world would be an amazingly happy and beautiful place. John is gone and I feel the weight of his loss deeply in my soul. He leaves a legacy of service to our nation, service to Christ, and service to anyone who needed it. He was a good man, a great man, and now he is gone. I will have the honor of directing his memorial service in a few days. The church will be bursting as those who John served make their way there to express their sorrow and love for him. I will be one of those people. John’s legacy will continue in his absence because he ignited goodness, love, and service in the hearts of those about him. May we all understand and embrace John’s mission in life to serve and love our fellow beings. Doing so will bring us the greatest rewards. It will fill our lives with the greatest gifts on earth; joy, happiness, and love. This is my prayer for you, for our nation, and for the world during this time of uncertainty and discontent. Thank you, John, for being my friend, and my God bless you as you arrive home, never to suffer more, the pains of the world nor heartaches of men. Godspeed.
I received a first call late last night and was therefore at the hospital when I ran into an acquaintance of mine. As we spoke, she told me that her father had recently died. She began to cry and I offered to send over a set of my grief books (Mourning Light I, II, & III) to her office the following morning. I wrote her a sympathy card and delivered the books about 15 minutes ago. She had not yet arrived at her office, so I left the books and card with her secretary. The following is the note I wrote in the sympathy card. I thought I would share it, in hopes that it might help others who mourn as well. Dear Friend, February will be the 2nd anniversary of my grandson’s death. It is said that “Death is Final”; that is untrue. The pain and loneliness remain in my soul, and it feels as though I held his lifeless body, yesterday, in my arms. That day broke me; it almost killed me. Had I not had the love and support of my husband and children, I don’t think my sanity would have remained with me. The pain continues to crush my soul with anguish. There are 4 things that have helped me survive the debilitating pain of losing my grandson, and I wanted to share them with you in hopes that you might find peace in them as well. Prayer Prayer was, and continues to be, my saving grace. Without the love and promise of Christ’s redeeming grace, peace would remain unobtainable. Recounting my Experience Sharing my story out loud made it real. It took away my fear. It gave me power over the chaos of pain. Information As a certified grief counselor, knowing what to expect and whether it was normal or abnormal helped keep my worries at bay. The books that I have sent over are filled with information, plainly and simply written, to help you understand and identify the symptoms of grief, as well as recovery’s signs and secrets. Journaling Writing down my anguishes, thoughts, pains, worries, and fears helped me to let them go. I was able to organize myself, and it gave me hope for my future. I am sorry for the dreadful sorrow in your heart, and the pain that infiltrates your daily existence. I understand that breathing feels unnatural, it takes effort to continue on, and that peace eludes you. I wish that death did not exist, but it is a reality that the both of us know all too well; one that we must endure. I believe that families are forever, that we are all God’s children, and that we will reunite with our loved ones across the veil as we too, one day, experience death. Until that day arrives, however, I pray that you and I will live our lives as emissaries of Christ, basking in his grace, and recipients of his glory. I hope that as you suffer the loss of your daddy that you will feel comfortable in reaching out to others, and that you might call me should you need assistance. The pain of grief should never be carried nor suffered in silence, nor alone. Reach out and allow those who love and care for you to lighten your burdens. Life will never be as it once was, but it will improve as you share priceless moments of peace with those who remain by your side. I hold you in high esteem, and pray that Christ’s promise will grace your soul. With Deepest Regards, Tracy Lee My name is Tracy Renee Lee. I am a Certified Grief Counselor (GC-C), Funeral Director (FDIC), published author, syndicated columnist, and co-founder of the “Mikey Joe Children’s Memorial” and Heaven Sent, Corp. I write books, weekly bereavement articles, and Grief BRIEFs related to understanding and coping with grief. I am the American Funeral Director of the Year Runner-Up and recipient of the BBB’s Integrity Award. It is my life's work to comfort the bereaved and help them live on, as well as educate adults in the needs of surviving children.