The war at home

It’s Veterans Day, but it’s also the night before my grandmother’s funeral.

Mamaw was a lot of things – an extraordinary woman who’d surely look at me funny if she heard me say that about her: a woman who was married to the love of her life for 61 years until his death, who worked the whole time she was raising three boys, and who likely never missed a Sunday at church. Those are the things that make her extraordinary.

One of my friends reminded me that Nov. 11 used to be called Armistice Day or Remembrance Day, and it honored veterans and anyone else affected by war. And Mamaw certainly was. Her husband was a Marine MP during World War II, and her middle son, my dad, was a four-times-wounded Vietnam vet who said many times that his salvation was having a loving Christian family to come home to.

So, as we rightfully honor military veterans today, let’s not forget the families waiting and worrying back home. They may not get shot at, but they sure as hell sacrifice before, during and after combat is over. Maybe after most of all.