Estimated reading time: 4 minutes
For over a century, Memorial Day weekend has been one of the biggest events in Indianapolis. Each year, on the Sunday before Memorial Day, more than 400,000 people gather at the iconic Indianapolis Motor Speedway for the Indy 500—a spectacle of speed, food, camaraderie, and tradition. But beyond the roar of engines and the festive atmosphere, Memorial Day remains a solemn occasion, rooted in honoring the sacrifices of our Armed Services.
Memorial Day has its origins in the aftermath of the Civil War. People initially called it “Decoration Day,” and it was widely observed for the first time on May 30, 1868, after General John A. Logan of the Grand Army of the Republic issued a proclamation. They chose this date because of the abundance of blooming flowers, which made it ideal for decorating the graves of fallen Union soldiers. Over time, the holiday evolved to honor all Americans who died in military service. In 1971, Congress officially established Memorial Day as a federal holiday, and now we celebrate it on the last Monday in May.
For many, Memorial Day marks the unofficial start of summer—filled with barbecues, parades, and time with loved ones. But for others, it carries a more personal weight.
Growing up
As a child, I saw Memorial Day as another chance to go camping with my extended family—my aunts, uncles, and cousins who helped raise me. My family was just my mom, my sister, and me. That felt normal. But as I got older, I realized something was missing: a father I never got to know.
I used to dream of him coming home. Over time, those dreams faded, replaced by a complex mix of emotions—sadness, confusion, even resentment. For years, I quietly struggled with feelings about the military and the National Anthem. Memorial Day wasn’t just a holiday; it was a painful reminder of absence.
My father, Robert Allen, MR2/DV (Machinery Repairman Second Class/Diver), died in a diving accident aboard the USS Chanticleer (ASR-7), a Navy submarine rescue ship, in 1967. I was only two years old. I carry just two memories of him—riding on his motorcycle, and the moment the military came to our home to tell my mother he had passed.
In the wake of that loss, my mother made the courageous decision to move us closer to her family. And it truly took a village. The love and support from my extended family shaped the person I am today.
At the Race
Yesterday, as I stood during the pre-race ceremony and listened to the National Anthem, I felt a shift. Yes, there was sadness—there always will be. But there was also gratitude. For my extraordinary mother; For my devoted sister; For the family that stepped in; And for the resilience that carried us all through.
When people talk about the challenges of growing up without a father, I understand it deeply. But I also know that love, community, and strength can fill even the deepest voids.
This Memorial Day, I shed tears—not just for what was lost, but for all that I gained. If you’ve lost a parent, whether in military service or not, allow yourself to feel the grief. But don’t let it eclipse the joy, the love, and the memories of the past and still being made.
Wherever you are this Memorial Day—at the track, with family, or quietly reflecting—take a moment to honor those who gave their lives. And also celebrate the people who’ve carried you forward!
Honor the past. Embrace the present. And be grateful for the community that surrounds you.
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