Memorial Day realization

Every year, my dad and I wake up early to go to our towns’ parade. We bring the dogs and socialize with all of our friends. The main reason I was so compelled to go back home for this weekend was because I couldn’t bear to miss the parade. It’s a tradition my dad and I have followed for years. As I have gotten older, my dad’s father has been getting sicker. My grandfather, whom I refer to as Poppy, fought in the Second World War and received 3 purple hearts for his bravery. He has bullet holes in his arms, but to this day he pushes on. It wasn’t until recently that my poppy began to become really frail. At Christmas, he was rushed to the hospital because his kidneys were not operating properly. And, ironically on the weekend he is commemorated for all of his hard work, he started to get sick again. My dad drove down to Westchester, NY to help my grandfather because he got sick again. As I sat at the parade this morning and saw the veterans walking or driving down the road, for the first time I truly felt proud. Every other year the parade just happened. This year, I really knew why. For those elders to feel so proud to be honored for their hard work and devotion many years back, I felt the same admiration. I feel bad that it took me this long to really feel and be affected by the true meaning of the holiday, but at the same time, I am glad I am not still waiting for this feeling.