D Day and Uncle Harold

 

Harold, to his brothers

 

 

For my uncle Harold, who lost his life on June 6, 1944 on the beaches of Normandy.

 

Remember me,

not in my uniform of grey,

 dog tags dangling from my neck,

but with my ball cap placed 

a little to the side,

my well worn glove out stretched

as I leaned over waiting 

 for the ball to come

in my direction.

 

Remember me,

not in a polished stone of white,

sitting amongst so many,

inanimate and lifeless,

but in my laughter,

my twinkling blue eyes

and my smiling

red cheeked face

as I lived and breathed 

along with you.

 

Remember me,

not  in the stories you

have been told 

of my bravery and courage,

the words typed so coldly in textbooks,

but in who I really was :

a young man, 

panic racing  in my heart

 as I stumbled, 

with all the terrified others,

 from that boat

that fateful morning.

 

Remember me,

not in the images of how I lay when

our  brother found me,

but in how I ran bare foot

through the tall grass as

my dog Skip and all of you  

ran along by my side.

 

Remember me,

not in images of how my life 

was taken from me

for the sake of glory and freedom 

for those I left behind,

but in how  I was before that awful day

that haunts the world still.

 

Remember me,

 in how I lived

and how I  laughed

and how I loved

not in how I died.

Remember me 

not as an idea,

forever laminated,

in some photograph

but as a real 

human being.

 

Remember me.

 

 

Dale-Lyn November 11, 2014