Remembering the Greatest Generation
Recently, I arranged for the burial of my uncle, who died at the age of 84 years. I was the only surviving relative who could physically attend his burial. He never married and had no children. My father, when he was alive, had great distain for his younger brother, who hadn’t held a steady job as long as I can remember. I didn’t have a personal relationship with him, indeed, I saw him only once in the last 30 years. Nevertheless, I knew there was one thing he did in his life that has to be honored. He fought in WWII and saw action in the European theatre. I made sure he received the honor of being buried in a Veteran's cemetery.
posted by Jason Pappas at 9:40 PM
7 Comments:
You are a good man, Jason.
That was the honorable thing to do. You chose the honorable option.
That generation is funny Jason. Some people were shot out by the war and never recovered.
My Uncle was a Holocaust Survivor and drifted for the remainder of his life. We forget that their are painful memories etched into their lives.
Thanks people.
Beak, you may be right; my father and mother had different opinions on the matter. However, what matters most now is his service in the Big One.
I hope I can encourage others to remember our Vets whenever they can. And I wish people would read about how we fought WWII or even see the kind of movies we made in WWII. They are such good examples of the right attitude.
Jason,
My condolences. Even though you didn't see your uncle for many years, he was still your uncle.
I was the only surviving relative who could physically attend his burial.
Isn't that sad? Many of your uncle's age and older often have few appear at the funerals.
Three of my cousins saw very difficult service during World War II--two of them served at Normandy and the other in the Pacific Theater. The two who served at Normandy died at a young age--one of them of a massive heart attack at age 39, and the other drank himself to death later on in life. None of the three "were right" after they came back from the war; at least, that's what the women in the family said.
You did the right thing: made sure he received the honor of being buried in a Veteran's cemetery.
Jason
Some memories do not fade away. My desk is near an airbase. For obvious reasons I am bothered by the sound of low flying jets. I had to get away from the area and drove to the Northeast Kingdom.
My coworkers were perplexed at how such a minor thing could upset me.
Unlike NYC, where we have white noise, the noise of the low flying planes are amplified.
No doubt, your Uncle may have been subjected to some horific memories.
Time just does not heal all wounds.
Good nephew.
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