

Military members and their families face far more difficult moments than we see in the headlines.
C aptain Cody A. Khork, 35, of Winter Haven, Fla.; Sergeant 1st Class Noah L. Tietjens, 42, of Bellevue, Neb.; Sergeant 1st Class Nicole M. Amor, 39, of White Bear Lake, Minn.; Sergeant Declan J. Coady, 20, of West Des Moines, Iowa; Major Jeffrey R. O’Brien, 45, of Waukee, Iowa; Chief Warrant Officer 3 Robert M. Marzan, 54, of Sacramento, Calif.
These are just a few of the American service members recently lost in combat operations in the Middle East. As the conflict grows more unpredictable — and with no clear end in sight — the deployment of ground troops remains a possibility. Right now, military families across the country are watching closely, living with a level of uncertainty most Americans will never experience.
This Memorial Day, that reality should give us pause. For many, the holiday marks the unofficial start of summer, a long weekend of travel, gatherings, and time off. But for military families, it carries a far deeper meaning.
For the American families who have recently lost loved ones in the conflict in the Middle East, for Gold Star families across generations, and for the broader military community, Memorial Day is not just a Monday off — it is a day of remembrance. It reflects absence. It honors those who never came home. And it acknowledges the lives forever changed when our war heroes make the ultimate sacrifice.
As tensions continue to rise overseas and raise the possibility of putting more troops in harm’s way, the authentic meaning of Memorial Day becomes even more immediate. What appears to many as headlines, briefings, or social media updates represents something far more personal for these families. Behind every update is a family waiting and hoping for the safe return of their service member or, in some cases, preparing for the unimaginable.
I’ve worked alongside the military community for decades, now as the chairman and CEO of Fisher House Foundation, which provides housing for the families of service members currently receiving medical care in hospitals or Department of Veterans’ Affairs facilities. And so I have witnessed firsthand the weight of these moments. I have stood with families both during times of active conflict and in quieter years when the enduring burden of loss remains just as present. What stands out is not only these families’ grief but their resilience, their strength, and their unwavering commitment to honoring their loved ones.
In some of those most difficult moments, that mission takes on an especially profound meaning. Nowhere is that more evident than at Fisher House for Families of the Fallen at Dover Air Force Base, the only Fisher House we never want to see occupied. This home is reserved exclusively for Gold Star families, offering a private, peaceful space where they can stay at no cost as they receive the dignified transfer of their loved one’s remains.
In recent weeks, that home has been sadly active, serving as a place of refuge for families of service members lost in the current conflict. It is difficult to see Dover House needed in this way, and to know it may be called upon even more if this conflict continues. Still, it fills my heart with pride to know we are providing a place of comfort when it’s needed more than ever.
Inside those walls, something extraordinary happens. Families arrive in shock and grief, and they are not immediately confronted with ceremony, cameras, or headlines — instead, they are met with quiet support, privacy, and dignity. They are given space to be together, to process what has happened, and to begin navigating a loss that will stay with them for the rest of their lives.
That is the reality behind the news we so often are content to just scroll past.
As we approach America’s 250th anniversary, it is worth remembering that service and sacrifice have always been part of our nation’s foundation. Leading up to the milestones we celebrate, we honor our country’s long history of brave men and women willing to stand in defense of something greater than themselves — along with the families who stood behind them. That responsibility has never gone away. It continues today, carried by those who serve, and by the families who bear the weight alongside them.
Memorial Day is not only a commitment for organizations like ours; it is also a responsibility shared by all of us as Americans. It asks for something simple, yet meaningful: not celebration, but attention. Not just remembrance, but recognition of the families who carry this loss long after the ceremonies end. Because saying “thank you for your service” isn’t enough, and meeting that commitment requires more than words. Indeed, our gratitude calls for meaningful action.
As we gather for this holiday, pause. Say their names. Learn their stories. Reach out to a military or Gold Star family if you know one. Take a moment not just to remember, but to truly see the cost of service and the people who live with it every day.
Because for them, Memorial Day is not a long weekend. It is a lifetime.