Pain and Patriotism: A Memorial Day I Won’t Forget

Memorial Day.

For most, it’s cookouts, flags, sales, and sun.

But for me, this year — it was excruciating.

Pain like wildfire, licking up my spine.

Pain that made breathing feel optional.

Pain that stole the day before I even opened my eyes.

I didn’t get to honor Memorial Day the way I wanted.

I wasn’t in a crowd waving flags.

I wasn’t posting tributes or walking a cemetery path lined with folded notes.

I was in bed.

And honestly?

It felt shameful.

Like I was letting people down.

Like I was too busy surviving my own body to acknowledge the ones who died for mine to keep going.

But then I remembered something.

The people we honor today — the veterans, the fallen, the brave — they didn’t fight so I could be perfect.

They fought for freedom.

And sometimes, freedom means lying still.

Choosing not to push past your breaking point.

Crying because your body hurts so much and still deciding to stay in it anyway.

That’s a kind of strength, too.

So I laid there.

I breathed through the pain.

I remembered them — the ones who never came home, and the ones who did, carrying pain far deeper than mine.

Pain that doesn’t always show up on days like today, but lives in them year-round.

And I sent them love.

In my own way.

From my bed.

With my whole aching, grateful heart.

To every veteran — fallen, remembered, or still here fighting invisible battles — thank you.

I honored you the best way I could today:

By choosing to live through it.

Even when it hurt.

Especially then.

With Love,

Dana & Nicky