I spent six years of my youth in England. Every Memorial Day we went to a ceremony at an American military cemetery.


Americans spoke of the history of Decoration, now Memorial Day, a day to remember those who died while serving in the U.S. miltiary and laying flowers on their graves. Then British speakers would mostly say thank you: To America, Americans, those who had served, the wounded, the dead, and their families.


Then the last British officer to speak would salute, everyone in uniform must have, and it would be very, very quiet. Soon, we would begin to hear a low rumble, getting louder and louder and then Lancasters would roar by and blanket the graves with poppies.


Most days we are oblivious to the price paid by men and women in uniform. And Memorial Day, as we hear over and over again, is the unofficial start of summer. In the midst of this invariably busy time, pause at least briefly and reflect on the lives sacrificed protecting the freedoms that we enjoy every day.


They laid down their lives for us and each life lost represents other lives that are left to pick up the pieces. The parents, brothers and sisters, widows and widowers, and children of the servicemen and women who died for us.


And remembering them, makes us stronger.


This blog is published annually on Memorial Day.