John 15: 12-13
It all started when I was over at Leslie's house. Her mother asked me if I knew the boy who had gotten killed over in Afghanistan his third week in. I told her I hadn't heard anything about it. She then informed me that in the latest issue of our city's paper, he was on the front page. She told me what she could from memory, but after I read his story, it hit me even harder.
She was wrong about a few things... He was a Marine. He was only 20. He graduated from Warren High School. His name was Joshua Whittle. He grew up in Downey. He will forever be remembered, and may he rest in peace.
His death got me thinking of how many more soldiers are going to be dying overseas, and then the thought of those I love around me dying. Then, I know it may seem very silly, it got me thinking of one of our family pets.
Minhee, pronounced 'Mini', was a purebred Dalmatian that had the sweetest personality. She would never hurt anything, or any one. We trusted her to care for our assortment of odd pets. Baby ducks, bunnies, kittens, and chicks. She would care for these tiny little animals as if they were her own puppies. She would curl up near them and they would crawl/hop all over her and cuddle down next to her and nap. It really was the cutest thing.
A few years ago, she left. She wasn't one who usually left the house, and if she did, she would never go very far. She was a good dog, very obedient, and would return home in less than ten minutes whenever we let her out in the front yard. It was surprising. Three days passed and we launched a search to find our beloved dog. We called the animal shelters, visited them, asked our neighbors, people down the block.... There was nothing. I tried telling myself that she was old and sometimes dogs would leave their home so their owners wouldn't have to see them die... Didn't help much.
She was gone. And I could do nothing but accept it.
I cried, of course. I still do sometimes. Seriously, I know many people call their dog 'Saints' but she really was. No matter what hour of the night it was, she'd come out of her house to greet you with a lick to your hand and a wagging tail. She was always happy. She always forgave. You scoff and ask me, "How can a dog forgive?" I respond with this, when you do something to hurt them, and they just look up at you with understanding eyes and wag their tail. You look into those soft brown eyes, and you know you're forgiven for the mistake you made.
I mean, she was always there. When I would get upset I would run outside, hug her tightly and then I'd cry into her neck. I would spend some of the hot summer days laying out on the grass with my head on her stomach. We'd spend hours just chasing each other around in the yard, playing fetch, teaching her new tricks, or jumping.
What am I doing jumping a dog? It's great exercise. Leslie and I would set up these chairs with two long wooden sticks suspended between them. With every few jumps, we would raise them higher, and higher. Our dogs did well.
Anyway, let me just get to the point of why I started typing this blog post.
My friend, Harry, lost his father when he was nine. And with yesterday being Father's day, obviously, he ain't gonna be the happiest guy in the world at this very moment. But he still tries so hard not to show his emotions - that kills me.
When we think about the loved ones that we've lost, we get emotional, yes, but there's so much more than that...
You start thinking about how much you loved them and how you weren’t able to tell them how much you did or have enough time to express how much you did before they left. If they knew you loved them. If they knew just how much you loved them. You think of ways you could've expressed your feelings towards them. And then you wonder in what ways they tried to express their love to you. If you expressed that you knew that they loved you.
Then you think about those moments that you could've spent with them and beat yourself up about how stupid it was that you would just ignore them. And all the times you spent angry at them you regret because those could've been a few more memorable moments that would've been spent in perfect harmony.
You start asking yourself why you would do such a dumb thing. What were you thinking? You apologize over and over again – it’s still not enough. You just wish you could have one more minute with them standing beside you so you can just scream ‘I’m sorry’ and beg them for forgiveness. But as you’re sitting alone thinking all of this the image of their face comes back to mind and you see those same soft brown eyes smiling back at you telling you everything’s okay and that you’re forgiven. And it’s so comforting, yet so painful.
Such love! Yet, when they were here with you all you did was take advantage of them. It’s a painful thought, a painful feeling. But that last smile, that last fondest memory, keeps you going. It helps you move on. It helps you to realize that life spent grieving over the loss of someone isn’t what you’re meant to do. So you force a smile, blink back the tears, and take a step forward never forgetting what they taught you.
Love. It’s what you make it. Everyone has their own definition of love, but true love… true love, we all have the similar idea of. It’s as simple as it is, but it’s also so intricately complicated.
Love is simply a beautiful thing.
They tell you that you should spend your days telling everyone you love just how much you love them. It all sounds silly until you think about what happens after you’ve moved on from this life. Will the ones you loved know you loved them?
I hope they do. Everyone deserves to know that they’re loved.
So you, whoever you are, just know that I love you in your own special way. Sure, I don’t know you, but if someone else out there admires you and you’ve made a positive difference in their lives, it's enough to win a spot in my heart.
May all our fallen soldiers rest in peace. You will never be forgotten.
- Always remembered in our hearts.
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