"Remember Howard Leyshon"

A Poem by James Dicus inspired by a photo and conversation with his niece

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I looked at your photograph today - just 17 when you went away. I wonder if you ever had a pet turtle or frog? Brothers and sisters or a favorite dog? Did you miss your mom and was it hard to be brave? You were 18 when laid in your grave. Did you ever have a sweetheart to kiss? A young love forever missed. What were your dreams for life? Would you have had kids and a wife? Though We'll never meet I feel a connection the same. You died for freedom and I'll remember your name. Howard Leyshon.

“Freedom isn’t free” a man proclaimed at the Veterans parade when a faint voice answered “the cost is paid every moment, every day". I turned to look for who replied and saw an elderly woman with tear-filled eyes. Holding a faded flag looking as old she said 'The cost is rarely understood... seldom told. Can’t be bought with the all world’s money... nor its gold." I moved closer to hear "The price is paid in sad days and lonely years…” I asked if she'd lost a son to war, she replied "Many lost sons; black and white, rich and poor. My son had a smile like sunshine and a heart of pure gold; lost at Pearl Harbor he'll never grow old. I try to hide the pain, put up a fight; but my soul is crushed and I cry every night". Then I heard another voice say "God knows they faced hell but didn't turn or run, over Bougainville Island I lost my only son. Plane shot down all crew lost - Each soul paying freedom’s cost. They died for me they died for you - American boys courageous and true". Then another voice said “On Christmas Day the 784th deployed. Telegram said A hero 'Liberating Holland' is how I lost my boy”. Then a man said "Iwo Jima is where I lost my boy - my life that day was destroyed. I went to work as if i still lived, but I died with him giving everything he had to give". Our boys died so bravely on land, in the air, and at sea to ensure sweet liberty for you and me. So son, 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 they chose to defend, leaving us bearing grief & mourning that will never end; Fathers longing for a voice they'll never again hear, Mother's crying for their baby every night for fifty cruel years". Then the elderly lady with the flag spoke again "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 who cry themselves to sleep. The highest cost our precious freedom demands us to bear is witnessing her forsaken by those without grateful thought or thankful 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 Sweet Liberty 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 Letters, Photos, Reflections