I have always had a great love and appreciation for our military, and for the history of this country.  I have been to the Vietnam memorial in DC, shed tears at Arlington, walked the floor at the WWII museum in New Orleans with chills bumps, and gazed in awe at the Naval Aviation museum back home. A few years ago, I even had the amazing opportunity to attend the commissioning of the USS Michael Murphy on a beautiful October day in New York City.

But today I experienced something I never have before, and honestly never thought I would.

As we walked up to the lookout area at Pearl Harbor, the thing I noticed first was just how small that the harbor is.  I had a hard time imagining all the mighty warships we had there on that day almost 75 year ago.  It is hard to believe such a magnificent fleet all in one location.  I gazed out over the water, and thought about what a sight that must have been.  The mountains, with the clouds hanging low, the mist in the air, a place that had to have been so far removed from what most of these young men had ever seen.  The water today was like glass. Peaceful. A tropical paradise that quickly turned into hell.

We had a bit to walk through the museum, where one of the things that stood out was a short clip of a veteran talking about how he could only notify one family member that he was safe, and the struggle he had between notifying his mom or his dad. As he choked up, he explained how he chose his father, and then could only send one line out. Imagine the relief his dad had to have felt getting the one sentence that simply said he was alive. We watched a short film, and the kids all very solemnly got in line to load the ferry to the USS Arizona Memorial. I found myself seeking out the face of my own son. I thought about all the mamas who couldn’t even have pictured a place like Hawaii back in some small mid-Western town, but sent their sons off to serve in the Navy. It took us over ten hours of in-air flight time to get here. That was an impossible world away in 1941. As we pulled up to the memorial I couldn’t help but think of how those same mamas would forever after live a world away from their sons. Their sons, which I have no doubt they loved more than their own lives – forever entombed in a watery grave as a reminder of the sacrifices made on that Decemer day.

As we lined up to exit, we saw a Pearl Harbor veteran wheeled onto the memorial with tears running down his face. Seventy-five years ago he lost his innocence, his childhood, his brothers-in-arms, and returns today to a place that isn’t just a memorial of a time long past, but a monument that clearly divides the life he once knew, and the life he went to bed with on December 7, 1941.  Forever changed. We see the documentaries. He closes his eyes and can’t escape.

My words will never be able to accurately convey the experience of Pearl Harbor.  The beauty of the land. The absolute unimaginable events that took place there. There are monuments to other lives lost in defense of this country, but none where so many lives were lost in an instant. There are other monuments that have the names. But it is something to know you are standing above so many who rest in their earthly grave below. Together in life. Together still in death. My words may not come like I would like, but my heart will never forget.