Memorial Day—a baseball game—I hear the anthem play.
It’s time for me to stand and sing, so this I can convey:
My thanks to all the servicemen who fought for you and me,
especially to my own dad who died to keep us free.
When I was just a little boy, my daddy went to war.
Before he left, he said to me, “There’s no one I love more
than you and Mom, so I must fight to keep you both from harm.”
He hugged me then and kissed me, then I grabbed him by his arm.
“Daddy, please don’t go,” I wailed. “I don’t want you to die.”
I pulled his arm to keep him there and started then to cry.
He told me that he had a job to finish first, and then
he’d come back home when it was done to be with us again.
I never saw my dad again in all the years of strife.
For him it was a mortar shell that took away his life.
It left me full of bitterness that war was so unfair
to rob me of my daddy, and I plunged into despair.
But that was many years ago, and I don’t feel the same.
Now, when I hear the anthem play before a baseball game,
I think of all the good he did with so much bravery.
He sacrificed his own life so that others could be free.
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