Most people associate a doorbell ringing with good things. It could be a friend or family member come to visit, or a delivery person with a package. One Sunday when I was 14 it was a different story. It was early and I was up watching TV. All of a sudden, the doorbell rang.
I looked out the living room window and a very official-looking car was parked in front of our house. A soldier was standing at attention next to the car. My teenage self had no idea what changes my life would take after this day. When I opened the door two men in uniform were standing there. They asked me to get my parents. I called to my mother upstairs saying that soldiers were at the door. She threw on a robe and quickly came down the stairs crying. She told me to go up to my room, wake my little sister and get ready for church.
Next, my dad came down the stairs very upset. Instead of going to my room, I hid on the stairs and listened to what the men had to say. They told my parents that they regretted to inform them that my 21-year-old brother Michael was killed in Vietnam. They said some other things, but I could not listen anymore.
My world came crashing down. He had just sent me a letter two days ago wishing me a happy 14th birthday. This could not be real. I went upstairs, got my sister and me dressed, and my mom sent us to church alone. At church I could not even hear what the priest was saying; all I heard in my head was that my big brother, who I idolized, was gone! I started crying and people were looking at me, but I kept quietly sobbing.
From that day on, our family was in an uproar: people and food started showing up at our door. My sister and I were sent to stay with an aunt for a week and not go to school. My parents looked so distraught, and my relatives all said how sorry they were. I did not want to believe the boy in the casket was really my brother. I thought maybe he was really on a secret mission and they put a lookalike here. It really hit me when at the cemetery they did the 21-gun salute and sounded taps. I found myself trying to remember all the things we did together, good and bad. I still, to this day, cannot sleep with a closet door ajar because of what he said could come out in the night.
On this Memorial Day, please remember and honor those we have lost. Our friends, sons, daughters, husbands, wives, sisters and brothers all for this wonderful country we live in. NEVER FORGET THEM!
