On Memorial Day Grandma and Grandpa Donaldson would drive my siblings and me up to their graves. They had already bought their grave plots as well as a shared tombstone that had their birth dates and only needed to be filled with their death dates. I know, it seems kind of morbid, but I think they did it because they knew how hard it would be for us when they passed away and wanted us to get used to the idea.
So here I am thinking of them on Memorial Day.
Every Sunday consisted of visits to grandparents. We would spend a few hours talking with them and hearing about them and their lives. It was always something I looked forward to. They would often find us some sort of yummy dessert to enjoy but usually we just sat around and talked. I felt so lucky to have them so close. I would like to write all my childhood memories of them but realize it would take much too long so I will just briefly write a little of what I remember about their military experiences today.
Grandpa Donaldson was drafted into the military at 19. He was almost killed in WWII by a landmine. He spent over a year in hospitals in Europe and in the USA. He has stories about how he was a boxer and competed during his training. I think this was mostly in New York and at Fort Hood in TX. He talked about digging foxholes and the various guns and warfare in Europe. He let us feel the holes in his legs from shrapnel. He has always been and continues to be a hero for our family. The 4th of July breakfasts, fireworks at night at Grandpa and Grandma’s house with the Stadium of Fire fireworks in the background were a yearly treat.
I never knew Grandpa Vroman but he also served in WWII, just never overseas.
Grandma Vroman volunteered to serve in WWII. She was a wave in Hawaii and worked their as a store clerk. She wrote a book about her experience. When she passed away, I remember the salute and American flag over her casket. It was fitting.
I know this doesn’t do their service justice. I love them though and appreciate the lives they lived during their military service but especially the lives they lived after it.
In Flanders Fields
By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army
In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
