One of the questions we get asked each year, is why all this effort to place live wreaths on the headstones of those we’ve lost, when there are so many needs amongst the living. It is a fair question because there are tremendous needs in our communities, but beyond the message that is conveyed to those who wear the uniform past, present, and future, the question overlooks the impact on those who are left behind when the greatest sacrifices are made. No one has answered this question – why we lay the wreaths, or what it means to the living, than our Gold Star families. The following video and words are shared with us courtesy of Suzanne Brochu – Gold Star Mother from Maine: Good Evening: My name is Suzanne Brochu. I was asked to share with you a personal story concerning Wreaths Across America. I am just a simple woman, my roots from the salt of the earth: farmers, loggers, truckers, and soldiers. Those who have lived by a simple creed: Duty. Duty: to God, to family, and to country. My husband, Danny and I have been blessed with the gift of four children to raise. Out of love we strove to ingrain in them the honor of duty; duty to God, family, and to country. Surprisingly, three out of the four served in the military! And the fourth… well, she was their biggest fan! But with duty comes sacrifice. In August of 2009, we lost a son to the war. And, I found I had joined the ranks of the living dead, for my heart was frozen by the icy chains of grief. It seemed impossible that I would ever want to or be able to “live” again. Frankly, I can’t remember much about the ensuing months. But, there is one day that stands out in my mind. It was early December. I had to be in Augusta that day. I automatically steered the car onto Mt. Vernon Road headed to the cemetery, for I took every chance I had to be as close as possible to what once was my boy. It was a bitter cold day: the ground was blanketed with snow. The frozen fields and grey sky served as an appropriate setting for this grieving mother. As I drove, a silent prayer sent heavenward, “God, give me hope.” I swung into the cemetery and parked on the side without really seeing anything. I slowly raised my head, my eyes gravitating to his stone. I saw the crisp backdrop of the cold white ground and the rows of lifeless headstones. But gracing the front of each stone, a wreath was set. A wreath: a circle of rich green, the color of life, placed strategically before that sone of death… a circle of green… a silent tribute. And, set within, a red blow; the color of passion, courage, and yes, sacrifice. A simple wreath; I found myself remembering… Our son had gone willingly to serve. He was young, strong, and full of dreams. Yet, out of love he had chosen duty. I would not nullify his sacrifice. Hope… It would take time, but like the frozen soil that would ultimately give way as the green of life pushed forth, my frozen heart would someday thaw. And the desire to live would rise up and couple with the courage to live once again. A simple wreath, placed by a caring stranger, for just a moment, eased the grip of those icy chains. I will never look at a wreath the same way again; once again, thank you Morrill and Karen Worcester. Thank you, supporters of Wreaths Across America. The care and honor that your support allows to be displayed cannot alter the reality of the loss, but it can play an integral part in easing the intensity. Thank you for listening to my story, and God bless you. - See more at: wreathsacrossamerica.org/understanding-wreaths-across-america/#sthash.YyiE81z9.dpuf
Posted on: Wed, 19 Nov 2014 03:32:02 +0000
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