|Service, Sacrifice, And Eternal Honor Amid Some Shattered Souls
By Lawrence Ventline
Conflict in homes and one’s own heart where all hell begins confounds and creates controversy and confusion.
“Lukas brought us one step closer to peace,” said Father Leonard Chrobot, who preached at the funeral in St. Thomas the Apostle Church, Detroit. He was academic dean at St. Mary’s College, Orchard Lake where I was a freshman.
Last night, a neighbor in Rivertown where I reside at Jefferson and McDougall, said his twin brother is still a prisoner of war in Vietnam. That stirred more imaginings in my mind and heart. Trails of ache haunt humans long and deep with a poking pain.
Although I needed to watch “Hamburger Hill,” and all the other movies on Vietnam to heal up, accepting that war’s reality alone gave me a sense of closure to remember the hole in my heart, for sure, but, to finally move on, to let go.
The poem by Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 1870, “The Charge of the Light Brigade,” helped to heal my hurts, also.
“When can their glory fade?
…Someone had blundered.
…Theirs not to make reply,
The misery and mystery of war merged as the pouring rain wed with my own tears at the vigil that Veterans’ Day weekend in Washington, D.C., when the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Constitution Garden was dedicated.
May no one ever shame the service, the suffering and the sacrifice of the many we honor always and forever.