Without You
Someday I actually will get back on schedule and get these out on Wednesday like I'm supposed to. Like this Wednesday! :) Here's a short story for the prompt blue and a reminder that 99 Days of Summer Reading has started! You can find more here on Facebook. We've started the BINGO game so be sure to pick a new book to read and get into the game! Anyway, back to the story. It's Memorial Day and as an Air Force brat I've always been grateful that while my dad went to war, he always came home. I knew that not everyone was as lucky as I was. The men and women who serve our country in the name of freedom are my heroes. Most especially my dad, a man who taught me that there are things in this world worth fighting for. Some of them are even worth dying for. In honor of the fallen, I dedicate this short story. Thank you for the service that you have rendered on behalf of our country. You hold a special place in my heart. God bless.
The sky was a clear azure above as he walked. The breeze caused a ripple through the little flags and the air was heady with the scent of flowers. He stopped in front of a tombstone with a tiny flag waving in front of it. An empty vase waited for the bouquet held in the young man's hands. He placed the flowers, adjusting the patriotic bouquet so that the blue flowers were the tallest. Tim had been Air Force through and through and it was no surprise to their parents when he announced his intents to join the military. Blue had always been his favorite color and he claimed that it ran in his blood.
Tears pricked the young man's eyes as he knelt silently at the grave. It was the first Memorial Day since Tim had come home for the last time. He supposed he should have been grateful. Some never came home, even for burial. But he couldn't help feeling a deep sense of loss. Tim had been his hero. He'd always stood up for the underdog. He'd always had encouragement for his younger brother. "You can be anything you want, Matt," he had often said. "As long as you're not better at it than me." He'd wink and tousle Matt's hair before grabbing a football to toss around the yard with him.
Memorial Day would seem empty without Tim, the "King of the Barbecue," there to start things off right. Matt had always known that there was more to the holiday than grilling and fireworks. He came from a long line of warriors and his family came to this cemetery every year to pay their respects to those who'd paved the way for them. But this year it seemed different. The heroes they'd talked about before had been heroes of the past. Grandfathers, great-grandfathers, uncles and cousins of past generations. Having Tim in their family plot gave him the stark realization of the price freedom was bought with.
He heard motorcycles roaring in the distance and remembered the day his brother had gone to his final resting place. The motorcyclists had surrounded the cemetery, giving his family as much peace as could be had. His blood still boiled as he thought of the heartless individuals who had shattered the already broken pieces of his mother's heart with their hate. Didn't they understand it was because of men like Tim that they had the freedom to do what they were doing? Didn't they know what would happen in other countries and other times? His father had told him that they didn't understand and didn't care. But Matt wasn't so sure.
He'd had a rough time since Tim had gone. He'd gotten suspended after a fist fight at school. Some guy had talked about how stupid the military was and how undeserving they were of respect or honor. Matt had lost his temper, having just buried his older brother the week before. Mom hadn't had the heart to talk about it, but his dad had taken him for a long drive. "People like that just don't understand, Matt," he'd said. "They don't see what we see. All the see is a regular guy just doing his job. Tim didn't think he was a hero."
"But he was a hero!"
"You and I know that, son. But Tim just felt he was doing his duty. He didn't see himself as being anything more than the other guys around him. If anything, he saw himself as less. The men and women who serve our country, most of 'em don't see themselves as anything special. They've seen the ugliest things the world has and they fight to keep it away from their families and loved ones. They've seen the ugliness of war, the horror of treason. They see it and they've decided that freedom is worth working for. It's worth fighting for. And if necessary, it's worth dying for."
The sound of a bagpipe drew Matt out of his memories. He looked up to see the bagpiper standing in the cemetery, a slow, haunting rendition of "Amazing Grace" filling the air with sadness and yet with hope.
Matt stood and brushed the top of the tombstone with one hand. "I miss you, brother. Happy Memorial Day." He walked out toward his car to return home where his parents would be waiting for him.
The sky was a clear azure above as he walked. The breeze caused a ripple through the little flags and the air was heady with the scent of flowers. He stopped in front of a tombstone with a tiny flag waving in front of it. An empty vase waited for the bouquet held in the young man's hands. He placed the flowers, adjusting the patriotic bouquet so that the blue flowers were the tallest. Tim had been Air Force through and through and it was no surprise to their parents when he announced his intents to join the military. Blue had always been his favorite color and he claimed that it ran in his blood.
Tears pricked the young man's eyes as he knelt silently at the grave. It was the first Memorial Day since Tim had come home for the last time. He supposed he should have been grateful. Some never came home, even for burial. But he couldn't help feeling a deep sense of loss. Tim had been his hero. He'd always stood up for the underdog. He'd always had encouragement for his younger brother. "You can be anything you want, Matt," he had often said. "As long as you're not better at it than me." He'd wink and tousle Matt's hair before grabbing a football to toss around the yard with him.
Memorial Day would seem empty without Tim, the "King of the Barbecue," there to start things off right. Matt had always known that there was more to the holiday than grilling and fireworks. He came from a long line of warriors and his family came to this cemetery every year to pay their respects to those who'd paved the way for them. But this year it seemed different. The heroes they'd talked about before had been heroes of the past. Grandfathers, great-grandfathers, uncles and cousins of past generations. Having Tim in their family plot gave him the stark realization of the price freedom was bought with.
He heard motorcycles roaring in the distance and remembered the day his brother had gone to his final resting place. The motorcyclists had surrounded the cemetery, giving his family as much peace as could be had. His blood still boiled as he thought of the heartless individuals who had shattered the already broken pieces of his mother's heart with their hate. Didn't they understand it was because of men like Tim that they had the freedom to do what they were doing? Didn't they know what would happen in other countries and other times? His father had told him that they didn't understand and didn't care. But Matt wasn't so sure.
He'd had a rough time since Tim had gone. He'd gotten suspended after a fist fight at school. Some guy had talked about how stupid the military was and how undeserving they were of respect or honor. Matt had lost his temper, having just buried his older brother the week before. Mom hadn't had the heart to talk about it, but his dad had taken him for a long drive. "People like that just don't understand, Matt," he'd said. "They don't see what we see. All the see is a regular guy just doing his job. Tim didn't think he was a hero."
"But he was a hero!"
"You and I know that, son. But Tim just felt he was doing his duty. He didn't see himself as being anything more than the other guys around him. If anything, he saw himself as less. The men and women who serve our country, most of 'em don't see themselves as anything special. They've seen the ugliest things the world has and they fight to keep it away from their families and loved ones. They've seen the ugliness of war, the horror of treason. They see it and they've decided that freedom is worth working for. It's worth fighting for. And if necessary, it's worth dying for."
The sound of a bagpipe drew Matt out of his memories. He looked up to see the bagpiper standing in the cemetery, a slow, haunting rendition of "Amazing Grace" filling the air with sadness and yet with hope.
Matt stood and brushed the top of the tombstone with one hand. "I miss you, brother. Happy Memorial Day." He walked out toward his car to return home where his parents would be waiting for him.
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