Being alone today has brought it’s own unique struggle.

I’ve been alone for a month now and I’ve been fine–more than fine, really. I’ve been enjoying myself and the time with my son and the freedom of having the car. Then came the 96, one of the few us military families get during the year, and my husband is in another country so it makes no difference to me.

I’m bummed, of course. All my friends are going on road trips, their husbands are grilling hotdogs and they’re having family days at the beach. I have no family here so I’m going to take a trip to visit my family away from family and their new baby girl, but how I wish we could be together as a family, just the three of us.

The reality is that all that is absolutely trivial compared to why we have Memorial Day. It’s not for grilling or going to the beach or even family time–it’s to remember the service members who died so we could enjoy these freedoms. They literally sacrificed everything for you and me. Since marrying a Marine, Memorial Day has taken on an entirely new significance, but I’ve never been touched by death the way many military families have. My husband has lost buddies to the war and every time he says goodbye to brothers going on another MEU he comes home trying not to think about the fact he might not see them again–it’s much more real for him than it is for me.

Still, the possibility of one day losing my husband is very real for me. When I was in high school, I hesitated to get involved with my man because I knew what his dream of becoming a Marine could mean for our future family. When we found out we were having a boy, I cried because I thought maybe God was giving me a son as consolation and in preparation for one day taking away my husband.

A few weeks ago, a friend and I were meandering through the neighborhood with our babies in their strollers, discussing balancing kids with a husband. Husbands need to be the priority, we agreed, but it’s a very delicate balance because our husbands will be around forever but our kids will one day leave.

And then we stopped and neither of us said anything. We both have husbands with particularly dangerous jobs and that means we might not have forever with them–one day, one of them might be killed in combat. That’s the most real death has ever been for me, but it’s real enough that thinking about it makes me no longer want to spend the weekend grilling hot dogs or relaxing at the beach–the significance of this day is too heavy for that.

That’s why today’s struggle is unique. Yes, it stinks that my husband isn’t here, but he’s not here because he’s gone training to fight to protect America and I am so proud of what he’s doing. It’s okay that I’m spending a long weekend alone because I know that although the training my husband is doing is dangerous that he’s alive–the unique struggle comes with that looming thought: one day I could be spending Memorial Day in front of a grave stone. That’s how today is going to go for many family members who lost a loved one to the war. It is a crushing reality.

I talk through this struggle regularly with my husband because sometimes it gets in the way of the every day moments I should be enjoying and instead I’m imagining what it would be like to be a single parent.

Then my husband–my wise, wise husband–pulls me back into reality. You can’t live like you’re going to lose me, he tells me. You have to choose life. You have to remember that the only One who is in control of when I die is God, not even me, and He sees the big picture that you only see a speck of. 

He’s right, but it does little to numb the what ifs. Emma, my love, he continues, I will come home to you. And while you wait for that day, choose life. Choose this moment. 

My husband is alive and while I wait for him to come home, I will choose life. If one day he doesn’t come home, I will continue to choose life. On Memorial Day when I’m sad because my husband is in another country and I’m sad that so many service members have lost their lives to protect a freedom we all too often take for granted, I will choose life.

It’s so easy to talk about choosing life on a day that I’ve never experienced death–imagining it is about 0% like the real thing. I have been part of the military family for a short enough time that I have never lost someone close to me to the war, I have no friends who have lost spouses. I literally can’t imagine what it would be like, even though there are times I have tried. It is such a heavy day; losing a loved one who is never going to come back for any reason, but especially to a war they chose to fight to protect our country, is not something I can come close to understanding or touching on in a simple blog post. This day is foremost about remembering those men and women, honoring their sacrifice, and being thankful because without them we would not live the extremely blessed lives we lead. And the sacrifice transcends simply the men and women who gave their lives–it touched everyone around them, especially their families.

But ultimately their family is protected and free because of those loved ones who lost their lives. Their sacrifice is why we have the life we all enjoy.

I think we all, especially service members and their families, should spend the day celebrating life, whether that means grilling on the back porch or lying under an umbrella listening to the lapping waves, because we have been blessed with a life where we can enjoy lazy summer evenings and time as a family. It doesn’t detract from the ultimate sacrifice that has been made for this to happen; it is a celebration of the life and freedom we have because of it.

We cannot forget why we have this day. Today is a day of remembrance, first and foremost.

But we can choose life in light of it.

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“Today I have given you the choice between life and death, between blessings and curses. Now I call on heaven and earth to witness the choice you make. Oh, that you would choose life, so that you and your descendants might live!”
Deuteronomy 30:19 NLT