For Millions of Americans, Memorial Day means parades, picnics in shady spots, grilling, camping and relaxing at the beach. If we’re lucky, we will have sunny, early summer like weather. There is no doubt that Memorial Day is filled with pre-summer excitement that welcomes in the coming season with open arms. It’s about celebration and family, good food and getting together to do what we as Americans do best.
This Spring in Upstate New York, I have spent much of my time researching and photographing the graves of Civil War soldiers. I didn’t set out with this purpose in mind, rather it seemed to find me. With so many evenings spent walking through the local cemeteries until sunset, one thing became painfully obvious to me. With each Civil War grave I stumbled upon and photographed, I seemed to find another, and another. Before long my camera was filled with these photographs. I felt the overwhelming sense that even though I may not be able to read each weathered headstone or discover who each soldier was, their collective stories needed to be told. This is after all Memorial Day.
I am deeply affected and filled with respect, gratitude and sadness for the lives lost too soon. I mourn for the young soldiers who never made it home, and for the surviving veterans who suffered tremendously and then left this world too soon. I wondered, who were the truly misfortunate souls. Were they the young men who perished instantly at the hands of the enemy’s deadly weapon, or those who lingered in fields for days, writhing in pain with no water, only to meet their gruesome end. Were they survivors who were celebrated and honored, but who struggled with trauma and anguish over the violence they witnessed and participated in, and the physical challenges that altered the remainder of their short lives. Even those who went on to live many years surely could not have escaped the horrors of war.
For me, Memorial Day is every day. Time does not diminish the tragedy and loss but only serves to remind us that each life is unique and important, precious and fragile. Each life lost is a void that can never be filled. This truth is as evident today as it was in the past.
As I walk through the winding cemetery roads and pathways, I dart in and out of rows and tiptoe carefully across grassy hills when I catch a glimpse of an American flag so thoughtfully and tenderly placed on the grave of a brave soldier. I take in the peacefulness surrounding me, with the realization that it is in stark contrast to the events that put that young soldier in his grave. I kneel down for one last photo with the sun dipping down in the background, and I say a little prayer. “Godspeed. Thank you for your sacrifice and I’m sorry for your unfinished life”. This Memorial Day I know I will be thinking of all the soldiers who now finally rest in peace.
