Not Just Another Long Weekend: A Memorial Day Tribute from a Grateful Son, Brother, Marine

By Robo | May 27, 2025

Yesterday wasn’t just a holiday.

It wasn’t about sales, BBQs, or hitting the beach early.

It was a day of silence that lives deep in the bones of those who’ve worn the uniform. A day carved out for memory — and mourning. A day for the ones who never made it home.

I meant to post this yesterday. But a tech glitch with the site kept it offline. Maybe that’s alright though — because grief doesn’t follow a schedule. And neither does gratitude.

The Blood in My Veins Is Freedom-Dyed

I come from a line of warriors.

My birth father served in the Navy.
Both of my grandfathers fought under the U.S. Army.
One uncle served in the Marines, another in the Army.
And I joined the ranks of the United States Marine Corps.

We all made it home.

But Memorial Day isn’t about us. It’s about the ones who didn’t.

It’s for those whose final heartbeat was on foreign soil.
For those who died with honor.
And for those whose names are etched in granite but live forever in memory.

What Memorial Day Is — and What It Isn’t

It’s important we understand this:

Memorial Day is not Veterans Day.

Veterans Day is for the living — for those who served and came home.

Memorial Day is for the fallen. For the soldiers, sailors, airmen, Marines, and Coast Guardsmen who laid down their lives for the flag and everything it stands for. It’s not about fireworks — it’s about folded flags.

This sacred day has its roots in the ashes of the Civil War. By the late 1860s, Americans in towns across the country began holding springtime tributes to fallen soldiers, decorating their graves with flowers and prayers. It was originally known as Decoration Day.

The first widespread observance was held on May 30, 1868, at Arlington National Cemetery. Former Union General James Garfield gave a speech. 5,000 people showed up to decorate the graves of 20,000 Civil War soldiers — both Union and Confederate.

Over time, the day expanded to honor those who died in all American wars. In 1971, Congress declared Memorial Day a national holiday, observed on the last Monday in May.

But for many of us, it was never about a date on a calendar. It’s about a promise: We will remember you.

Where I Was When the Country Was Remembering

Early yesterday morning, long before the city stirred, I pulled into Icon Park on International Drive. The Orlando Eye and StarFlyer stood lit in red, white, and blue. The whole place felt hushed — like the colors themselves were whispering.

Later in the day, I had a drop-off in Celebration, Florida. I took a walk to their Veterans Memorial. Alone. No cameras. No crowd.

Just me, the breeze, and the names of the fallen. I stood in front of each one. I didn’t know them — but someone did. And someone still aches.

And as I stood there, I remembered how easily one of those names could have been mine.

To the Families Who Live With the Loss

To every mother, father, wife, husband, child, sibling, or friend who carries the weight of a loved one gone too soon:

I see you.
I honor you.
And I thank you for the price you continue to pay.

Memorial Day is your day, too. The echoes of sacrifice don’t end on the battlefield. They linger. In empty chairs. In folded uniforms. In birthdays and anniversaries spent in silence.

I Made It Home. Some Didn’t. I Remember. Always.

As a Marine, this day holds more than just meaning — it holds memory.

It’s names I heard.
Stories I was told.
Comrades I never met but still mourn.

Freedom has never been free. It comes with a cost. And Memorial Day is our national receipt.

So to those who gave everything:
We see you.
We remember you.
We will never forget you.

Semper Fi.

— Robo