gone but not forgotten

Remembrance Day, Veterans Day, Armistice Day, around the world millions of people are stopping to remember. Remember not only those who sacrificed their lives and limbs in combat, but also those who lost a loved one, those who got sick and suffered in service to their country, those who were victims of cruelty and those who still have nightmares....
Today we prayed for peace, for a safe return of those who are around the world doing peace keeping missions, defending nations, and combating terror. We asked for a blessing for those families that have suffered and are suffering, and for wisdom for our leaders around the globe.

My grandfather served in the Canadian Army during WWII. He spent most of his days in a sherman tank (pictured above). The tank battalion he served in took part in battles in Italy and were directly involved in the overthrow of Mussolini in 1943. My grandfather's tank was blown up and in the process my grandpa lost his elbow. As a kid a I remember being completely fascinated with all his scars on his body. CHUNKS of flesh missing as a result of shrapnel embedding itself in his body, I can't imagine the pain, of both the wounds and the recovery. When I looked into his eyes I always saw both sorrow and fear. Survivors guilt was usually present, something he could never shake, not even a fifth of scotch and a six pack of beer every day could take it away. Most of the time he didn't believe that people actually valued his sacrifice, and the sacrifice of the others he saw die around him. When there was only a beer left he would angrily lament, and hammer into us kids how important WWII was in history. He was a patriot, a voter, a serviceman, and he believed that he was a direct provider of freedom.
My dad was his only son, and us four kids his only grandkids. Truly the only time I ever saw joy in his face was when he was joking around with us kids. I think in those moments HE himself valued his sacrifice and the sacrifice of those he knew.
My grandpa died of heart complications. The day we saw him in the morgue, my dad opened my grandpas eyes, to "see" him one last time. I remember being struck with how green and hazel'y they were. How bright the color was. How the anger was gone and was replaced with rest. Finally.
Lest we forget.........