In Hawai‘i, Memorial Day blooms with quiet reverence. Fragrant plumeria leis, strung with love and memory, are gently placed upon each of the 35,000 graves at Punchbowl’s National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific. The site, nestled in a volcanic crater, is called Puowaina—"Hill of Sacrifice."

Each lei becomes a whisper of aloha, a silent thank you echoing through generations. In this sacred crater, remembrance is not a duty—it is a devotion of the heart.

Albert Einstein once said, “We must be prepared to make heroic sacrifices for the cause of peace that we make ungrudgingly for the cause of war. There is no task that is more important or closer to my heart.”

Originally called "Decoration Day," Memorial Day became a national holiday to honor those who died in military service. The tradition began at the end of the Civil War, when women placed flowers on the graves of both Union and Confederate soldiers.

“All wars are civil wars, because all men are brothers,” wrote poet François Fénelon.

On this solemn day, we remember those who gave their lives for freedom—what Abraham Lincoln called the “last full measure of devotion.” We honor them with parades, flowers, and flags.

During World War I, the poppy became a symbol of remembrance. Today, Buddy Poppies are worn with pride, and at Arlington National Cemetery, a wreath is solemnly placed at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.

“What is there to do when people die—people so dear and rare—but bring them back by remembering,” reflected May Sarton.