The Cost of Freedom in deeds, letters, photos, reflections

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I heard someone proclaim “Freedom isn’t free” at the Veterans Day parade when a faint voice answered “the cost is paid every moment, every day". I turned to look for who replied and saw a elderly woman with tear-filled eyes. Holding a faded flag looking just as old she said 'The cost is rarely understood or seldom told - can’t be bought with all the world’s money nor all its gold. Towards her I moved to better hear "The price is sad days and lonely years…” When I asked if she'd lost her son in war she replied "Many Mother's lost sons; Black and white, rich and poor. My son had a smile of sunshine and heart of gold; lost at Pearl Harbor he'll never grow old. I hide the pain and put up a fight- but my soul is crushed and I cry every night...". Another voice said "God knows when they faced hell they didn't turn and run, at Bougainville I lost my only son. His plane shot down with all crew lost - Each brave soul paying freedom’s cost. They died for me and died for you - happy American boys courageous and true". “On Christmas Day the 784th deployed. Telegram said 'Liberating Holland' is how I lost my boy”. An older man said "Iwo Jima is where I lost my boy - our lives that day were destroyed. I went to work as if i lived, but died with him giving freedom everything i had to give". Our boys died so bravely on land, in the air, and at sea to ensure liberty for you and me. Son, please always remember why you are free...". “We lost our boys in Korea, Vietnam, Afghanistan and Iraq, but none of our tears could bring them back" said a lady standing near. They died for everyone here. For her, for him, for me, and you too, Dear. For liberty and freedom they had to defend, leaving us bearing a grief & mourning that will never end; Fathers longing for a voice they'll never again hear, Mother's crying for their baby's every night for fifty years". No, the cost isn’t money, nor is it gold; the cost is rarely discussed and seldom told. It's often silent, always steep, in hidden scars of men crying themselves to sleep. In the indifference of those who don’t understand and those who speak against our country never appreciating why they can. They live for their own selfish hand - not for the liberty spirit of this land. The highest cost our precious freedom demands us to bear is witnessing her forsaken by those without thankful thought or grateful prayer. Mother Freedom demands all of this dutifully carried and silently paid —’til the merciful grave those who pay her price are finally laid. Then they will hear Mother Freedom say " Because the cost you valiantly endured and faithfully paid, the sanctity of humanity upon earth was saved. She looked at me and said: “That is how the Cost of Freedom is Paid".

The Cost of Freedom is rarely understood & seldom told; it can't be bought with all the world's money nor all its gold. It's paid by gallant defenders who sacrifice their lives; by Mothers, Fathers, Sons, daughters, husbands, wives. Longing for a voice they'll never again hear; crying for their baby every night for fifty cruel years

Excerpted from the poem "the Cost" by James Dicus Copyright