Guilt on Memorial Day

How should one feel on Memorial Day?

The ten-year old me would say: “Sad. And happy.”

And if you pressed the ten-year old me: “Sad because so many people died. Happy because we have freedom.”

That’s the ten-year old me. What about the me of today? What if you ask him how one should feel on Memorial Day?

“We should be ashamed of ourselves,” preaches the 40-year old me. “Look at what we’ve made of Memorial Day. Eating and getting drunk and shopping. My God! People died! And we’re tailgating on their graves. For shame!”

I’ve felt this way–guilty–for a few years now on Memorial Day.

It’s not just Memorial Day.

I feel guilty when I take a “mental health day.” Or when I’m not getting much work done at the office so I head to the coffee shop instead. Or when I take a long walk in the park around 2 p.m. on a Thursday. Or when I come to work late or leave work early to take my son for a haircut. Or when I have such a good day at work I can hardly believe I get paid to have so much fun.

I feel guilty in these instances because I always wonder what my granddaddy would think.

Granddaddy didn’t graduate high school, but he worked on the railroad for more than 40 years. Grandaddy didn’t take “mental health days.” He worked–sometimes 16 hours straight–whether he felt like it or not. When I get a cold, I take the day off. I can’t imagine Granddaddy ever calling in sick because of a cold.

Grandaddy did hard physical labor in the Nashville heat and humidity. He did whatever work had to be done whenever and wherever it had to be done. No picking up and going to the coffee shop for him.

Granddaddy took breaks, but they were short and someone was watching. He didn’t linger over lunch or take a walk in the park. I reckon that at some time during his life, “lunch break” was around 3 a.m.

If Granddaddy came in late (which I cannot imagine ever happened in 40-plus years) or had to leave early, he didn’t get paid. Period.

Granddaddy didn’t work because he loved to work. He worked because he had to work. He took all the overtime he could get because he had a wife and two kids to feed. He wanted to buy a home for them. He wanted to save up money to care for their needs far into the future. He worked double shifts through darkness, distress, heat, humidity, pain, sickness, and tiredness because that’s how he showed his family how much he loved them.

Granddaddy worked so hard that even though he never finished high school, he paid for four grandchildren to go to college.

And that brings us back to me…and guilt.

Did Granddaddy do all of that so that I would end up working on the railroad just like him? Would he look at the life I lead and say: “That’s not work! It’s not hard enough!”

No.

Granddaddy would look at the life I lead as a college graduate and say: “Good work, son.”

He did hard labor for 16 hours in the Nashville heat and humidity so I can work six-hour days (some of them at the coffee shop).

He didn’t take breaks so I can go on vacations, take “mental health days,” and take my son to the barber shop (or for ice cream).

He worked when he was sick so I can take a day off when I have a bad cold.

He did work he often didn’t enjoy to earn a little money. He did it so I can do work I enjoy that earns what would seem like a lot of money to him.

Granddaddy wouldn’t look at my life with disappointment and disapproval. He would see who I am and what I do each day now with the satisfaction of a man whose work accomplished what he wanted it to do. Granddaddy couldn’t have this life for himself and that’s OK with him. Because he used his life to make this life for me.

And for that reason, guilt and shame have no place.

Only gratitude. And celebration.

So let’s cut the guilt and pity from Memorial Day. Those who died made their choice and the choice they made was for us. What we have today is what they would want us to have today. Feeling guilty for how well off we are does not honor them and would not please them.

I don’t honor Granddaddy by quitting my job and going to work on the railroad. I honor him by making the most of what his life bought for me.

Likewise, let’s not spend much time today dwelling on the horror of war or lost lives. Rather, spend the day in celebration and gratitude.

Hang a picture of a fallen hero at your backyard barbecue. And as you begin to celebrate, pause and raise a cheer and a glass in his honor. Then enjoy the party. As you celebrate, make special note of all the little things about your life that you enjoy and take for granted. Have fun.

And know full well that those who are gone would say this is the best memorial you can give them.