Memorial Day, originally called Decoration Day, is a day of remembrance for those who have died in our nation's service.

There are many stories as to its actual beginnings, with over two dozen cities and towns laying claim to being the birthplace of Memorial Day. There is also evidence that organized women's groups in the South were decorating graves before the end of the Civil War: a hymn published in 1867, "Kneel Where Our Loves are Sleeping" by Nella L. Sweet carried the dedication "To The Ladies of the South who are Decorating the Graves of the Confederate Dead"

In Flanders Fields
John McCrae, 1915.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

In 1915, inspired by the above poem,  Moina Michael replied with her own poem

We cherish too, the Poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led,
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies.

...but  what about those who haven't lost their lives, but feel that a piece of their soul died while  fighting OUR wars ?

Last week I received this email from a young man that I'm in communication with, who, after 11 September 2001, felt his patriotism surging...and joined OUR Army and went to fight OUR war:

"Hey Louie b.,  I'm ok for they most part. Ran out of insurance so it's hard getting my suboxone, had to resort to using methadone a few times because of it (no script), and a couple months ago so I had to use the bad stuff for a few days so I didn't get sick, but it didn't go farther than that. I've managed to ween myself down to 2-3mg suboxone (from 20mg) a day. But I still can't completely just jump off all the way. I'm having to pawn (expletive deleted) just to get suboxone at walgreens so I don't get sick. if I didn't have so much going on here right now I would go through the sickness and get off, but at this point in my life I need to be able to function. My lease is up so I have to move in a month (I have no idea where) my fiancee just got a raise and had to move to a different location, _____________ is giving me a job offer (in the opposite direction of her work, over an hour), but I have to pass a hair test, which I won't pass, that would be my dream job, but like I said, I used the bad stuff [heroin]a couple months back, so that will come up on hair test. So now I have to find another job by where she works because we still only have one damn car. And I have 4 weeks to figure this out before I'm on the street. Sometimes I wish I would have just died in Iraq, at least then people would of had respect for me and say I died for Noble cause, instead of saying I'm a worthless junkie on the streets that is going to die a piece of garbage and probably never did a damn thing to ever contribute to society. But in all actuality if you saw me on the street, I'd be laying there wondering if either I, or my friends, that died in combat had made a difference FOR them people walking by me on the street probably being disgusted by my sight Because with this PTSD, and TBI,{traumatic brain injury} people don't understand, my brain won't work right and I can't do anything no matter how hard I try to do good and lead a normal life. I don't regret going to Iraq and fighting for my country, I regret coming back alive, if this is what you call alive.All I wanted to do was fight for my flag, come home, be with my loved ones, and be a man for my girl..."