Veterans Day: the words mean something different for each individual who hears them. Some feel indifference towards the holiday, recognizing it simply as another passing day that the government has named in honor of some person or group. Some feel disgust, having ill-feelings towards everyone and anything associated with the military and war. Some feel pride, understanding that the holiday is less for the general population and more for the individuals it is honoring.

I am a member of the last group.

If anyone were to look up my family tree, they would see veteran after veteran and current active-duty personnel. I have grown up with the structure and discipline of the military, as well as the respect for authority and the drive to stand up for something I believe in. I am servant-hearted, and I owe that to my upbringing.

But, as much as my family's military experience has impacted my life, Veterans Day is not for me. Veterans Day is for them. It is for the veterans, the individuals that have come before us since the very birth of this nation, serving in our military and living their lives according to the oath that they took to defend the land we now stand on. They are the soldiers of the Revolutionary War, who stood up against the monarchy that abused their rights, carving out a path for their own nation. They are the men and women who fought and died bravely in Pearl Harbor, the individuals who helped save the lives of the remaining oppressed people in the German concentration camps, the heroes who answered the call when the World Trade Center was attacked unprovoked, and the men and women who suffered in the Middle East under the orders of the powers that be.

They are the working people now, who will never completely acclimate themselves to life as a civilian. They are the mothers, fathers, siblings, and children who will stand tall for the anthem and will send up an extra prayer for their brothers and sisters in arms every night.

They are the men and women in our VA hospitals, suffering physically from broken bodies. They are the silent sufferers, with their minds still in the fight while their bodies are here. They are the bodies in the grave, with the American flag laid over their caskets and shots ringing out in the sky above.

They are not those who currently serve — there is a separate and equally important, holiday for them. They are not the civilian, who will never understand the burden of responsibility that these men and women have held in their lives. They are not the politicians that give them their orders, or the activist that spits on their shoes.

They are not us, and this day is not for us. And that is okay.

I know of a man who served in the Vietnam War, answering the call of his government and fighting for his life in a nation that wanted nothing more than his blood, only to come back home and meet the same level of animosity and hatred from his own country. I know of a man who still tells his children stories about his time in the Air Force, helping us to understand the sacrifice that was made for us to live how we live now. I know of a man who lost his best friends to an IED, who will never set foot in the Middle East again for fear of his demons rising up to greet him again.

This day is for them, and they deserve it. They fought for countless days against horrors that we will never know about or see, and they deserve this day. This one day.

If you want to know what this day means to me, then this is it.