I Drive Your Truck | National Review OnlineIt happens now and then. You hear a story so sad, so beautiful, so filled with loss and pain and grief and love, that it makes you cry. Really cry.
Two years ago, I was making a grocery run for my family on Memorial Day when a story came on the local NPR station in Oxford, Miss. It was about a father whose son had been killed in action in northwest Afghanistan. The father was Paul Monti; his son was Sergeant Jared Monti. Jared died in Afghanistan trying to save the life of one of his men. Jared was 30 years old when he died, and was awarded the Medal of Honor posthumously for his heroism under fire. But that was small consolation to his father: The son he loved and admired was gone, forever.
We then heard from Jared’s dad. His grief was palpable, as he told the NPR reporter some stories about his son. Stories of how his son was always helping people, especially people less fortunate than himself. His father nearly choked up telling a story about how his son once took a brand-new kitchen set he and his buddies at Fort Bragg had just purchased for their home, and gave it away to a fellow soldier’s family.
/snip
The grief Jared’s father feels will never go away. And he’ll probably drive that truck of his son’s for as long as it will run. And longer.
The last verse of the song says it all:I’ve cussed, I’ve prayed, I’ve said goodbye
I’ve shook my fist and asked God why
These days, when I’m missin’ you this much
I drive your truck
A moving story that emphasizes what Memorial Day is REALLY about.
I Drive Your Truck | National Review Online
My Dad (Army, Greenland, killed 1958) didn't live long enough to see trucks like the one in that video; trucks that I've spent a lifetime restoring, one after the other.
I often wonder what he would have thought about them.
A couple form back in the day
On D-Day, June 6, 1944, 41% of warriors who stepped out of the landing craft would fall. These people paved the pathway for continued freedom with their blood. Memorial Day is about remembering the sacrifice of those killed in conflict. Make sure that the beautiful weather and cookouts don't distract you from the real reason for your holiday pay.
Reminds me of when we made it through our first det and my hubs finally came home. My boss wouldn't let me off work to greet him as he came off the boat. My hubs was sad but understanding. The more I thought about it the more pissed off I became. We had a few comm blackouts that lasted a couple of weeks because there was a fatal accident on the flight line and another committed suicide. Those weeks without hearing anything were terrifying for me.
The morning he was coming home I was getting ready for work and my rebellious nature and temper kicked in full throttle. All I could think was, “F work. He is more important.” So I changed clothes, put on a nice dress that showed off my curves, never called work, and hauled butt to where they docked.
I saw him as soon as he stepped off the ramp and followed him with my eyes the entire walk to me. I was anxious, nervous, happy, and …
The look on his face when he saw me, how his whole face lit up in surprise and joy, still warms my heart. God how I hated the look of dress whites, but that day, he was so handsome and the only person that existed in my world.
It is moments like this that makes a man extremely happy to be with the woman he married.
She can do no wrong!