Memorial Day – Missing Dad, An Army Vet

My dad passed away a month ago. This was our first Memorial Day and Father’s Day without him.

He went into the Army as a Captain, because he was a physician in 1943, at age 22, right after he married Mom. He came back from Okinawa after a bout of polio, on a stretcher, weighing 85 pounds, as Mom always put it. He got strong again, walked with a slight limp because of a withered leg, (a kindergarten classmate first pointed out his limp, and I said, “that’s how Daddies walk”), and had a happy life and a successful career as a physician.

Dad hated all wars after WWII, but he was proud of his service there. Stationed in Okinawa, he learned Japanese, and “loved the Japanese people” as he put it. He was never resentful that he got sick there; in fact, resentment, regret and guilt are emotions I rarely saw in Dad. My siblings and I marveled at his great passion and zest for life well into his 80s, despite his quintuple heart bypass surgery, pacemaker, and walker, then wheelchair, and we often stated, “hope we get old like Dad.” I think of him lovingly on this day, as I do every day, and I am proud of his service to our great country.