Already 80 years!
The history of D-Day has been present in my life through tales, films, and commemorations. I find it hard to believe that such a long time has already passed.
My mom was born in February 1944. When the largest armada in history arrived at the coast of Normandy, she was only three months old. But the world she would grow up and live in was shaped right on this day. And not only hers, mine too. This is why I like to say we (our generations) are the children of Omaha Beach.
The outcome of this day has affected everything that has happened since, including the type of books we read, films we watch, and music we listen to. But most importantly the kind of opportunities and freedom we would have.
The world that was left in Western Europe after WW2 was certainly far from perfect. There were a lot of things still to gain a lot of rights to fight for. But so far, it was the best era we could be born into, this I am convinced by now.
80 years full of joy, sorrow, tears and struggle, love and victories.
We could not go to Normandy to commemorate this day, but what we did was visiting the American cemetery in Epinal. The atmosphere is so dense and strong that you can almost hear the whispering of the spirits in this beautiful place.
All these young men who came from over the sea and who never had the opportunity the live the life we had.
* We * are their children.
I brought some roses and small lilies from my house yard. Destinated for them all, but to lay down under only one cross. Which one? I let my intuition guide me. An energy took me across the field and drew me to a grave, where I finally stopped, knowing I was right. It was the grave of Richard M. Badgett jr. from Kentucky. Died On October 28, 1944
Dear Richard. We never met, you are from another time and another place. Still, I owe you so very much. Dear father of my world - a world that is about to end, but which was the best one we could have ; I thank you and I hope that some day, some place, we will meet. And then you will tell me all your stories.
Très beau, ma chère Diana. Je ne savais pas que tu avais un blog. Je vais le disséquer un peu ..
ReplyDeleteJe m'étais arrêté à un cimetière de soldats quelque part en Normandie., en revenant d'Angleterre. Un cimetière de soldats....allemands ! Et si on peut qu'admirer le courage de voir Les soldats qui reposent loin de chez eux, morts au combat pour libérer un continent, en revanche, on se demande ce qu'un jeune Teuton (un rêtre, peut-être) venait faire là, à défendre une idéologie d'un malade. Bien triste.
Merci pour le commentaire,
DeleteA vrai dire, il fut un temps où j'e m'étais plus préoccupé justement des soldats allemands. Me demandant ce que ce doit être de combatre du mauvais côté et par conséquent être perdant à absolument tous les niveaux.
Ils ont payé un prix très elevé pour avoir été les guerriers du mal.