Too Late for Praise: Honoring Those Who Served While They Can Still Hear It

Wrapped in Ceremony, Wrapped in Irony

There’s something poignant, something almost painfully ironic, about how we heap praises on the dead. The ones who bled for their country don’t get the recognition when it matters most—when they’re alive, when they can feel the gratitude in their bones. No, instead, the honors come wrapped in flags, handed to grandkids too young to understand, and whispered over graves by men in dress blues. Strangers stand solemn, mouths full of words meant for the living, yet offered too late.

But that’s the way of things, isn’t it? We, as a society, have a knack for waiting until the last possible moment to say “thank you,” and when we do, the person we’re thanking has already left the room. It’s almost as if we enjoy the drama of it all—late thank-yous, late decorations and medals, late to the game. By the time we realize what these men and women sacrificed, they’re names on plaques, ghosts watching us from some far-off place, shaking their heads with a knowing smile. Probably muttering, “Well, isn’t this just typical.”

The Bitter Taste of Belated Praise

We have a peculiar habit of saving our best tributes for the dead. The men and women who gave everything to protect us often have to settle for tributes from people they’ll never meet. Colorful medals or crosses, stars and hearts arrive in pretty boxes, not in the hands of the soldiers who earned them, but in the hands of their next of kin. You know, the way we like to do things—drag our feet, make sure the 'thank you' has that special, antique feel to it.

When’s the last time we thanked a soldier while they could hear it? How often do we say, “I appreciate you,” while they’re still standing in front of us? The numbers aren’t pretty. Far too many veterans pass away without hearing a word of thanks, without knowing that what they did mattered and that their presence was valued by those around them.

We’re a society addicted to posthumous praise, throwing it around like confetti at funerals—“better late than never,” right? No, not really. What about “better now than dead”? Think of the time and effort saved at the funeral and wake and afterparty . . . all that hubbub.

The Ceremony of Silence: Why Do We Wait?

There’s history here. We’ve been pulling this trick for centuries. Ancient Greece? Sure, the hoplites were celebrated—after they were already roasting on a pyre. The Romans did much the same. It’s like a tradition now, something we’ve been perfecting. We adore the ritual of delayed gratitude. Maybe it feels more solemn when it’s too late. Maybe we think praise tastes sweeter when the recipient can’t actually enjoy it with us.

Look at any war: World War I, World War II, Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan—you name it. It’s the same story. The soldiers march off, risk life and limb, and if they’re lucky enough to make it home, they get a nod, a pat on the back—nothing fancy. But if they don’t make it, well, then comes that ceremony. Then comes the gratitude in waves. There’s pomp and circumstance, a tearful anthem, and a speech about bravery. We love that stuff—the pomp, the speeches—just as long as the ones we’re honoring aren’t around to interrupt with something trivial like their living presence.

The Strange Tradition of Waiting: A Global Phenomenon

This isn’t just an American quirk, mind you. Societies around the world have turned tardy recognition into an art form. Whether you’re looking at the Japanese samurai, the British soldiers of the Somme, or the Soviets of Stalingrad, it’s all the same. Medals and honors are passed out long after the fighting is over, long after the brave have gone. Sure, the sentiment is there. Sure, the ceremony is heartfelt. But there’s a glaring absence: the person who actually earned it.

It’s almost like we can’t bring ourselves to say “thank you” until there’s no risk of the person hearing it. Why? Maybe we’re afraid of the weight of gratitude, or maybe, just maybe, we’re so caught up in our busy lives that saying “thank you” becomes just one more thing we’ll get around to. Later. When the time is "right"—which usually means when it’s far too late.

The Cost of Silence: What We Lose by Not Saying “Thank You” Now

It’s not just the veterans who lose out. We lose something too. We lose the chance to connect, to show respect, to say, “You matter.” It’s not just a missed opportunity. It’s a loss of something deeply human. Our emotions are there for a reason, yet we often don't use them in good time.

What does it cost us to say thank you now? It’s not hard. You don’t need a parade, you don’t need a speech. It’s as simple as walking up to someone and acknowledging their sacrifice. I do it all the time when I see a veteran wearing a navy-blue baseball cap bedecked with his ribbons and insignia. Their expression is always the same: beaming smile! Trust me, they appreciate it more than a Silver Star they’ll never touch.

And here’s the kicker: a thank you now doesn’t just make the recipient feel good. It makes us better. It reminds us of our shared humanity. It reminds us that these people—these soldiers, these protectors—aren’t just figures in history books or names on plaques. They’re real. They’re standing right in front of us, deserving our gratitude now, not in some distant future when all that’s left is a folded flag and a beautiful gravestone at Arlington National Cemetery.

Our Love Affair with “Too Late”

Let’s be honest, we’re terrible at timing. We don’t just do this with veterans. Oh no, we do it with artists, scientists—heck, even our neighbors. We wait until someone’s gone before we sing their praises, before we realize just how much they contributed to our lives. It’s like we’re allergic to real-time appreciation. Maybe we think it’s gauche to be so on time with our emotions. “Better late than never,” we say, as if that’s a comfort. Well, tell that to someone who’s been six feet under for a decade, watching daisies push up and touch the sun.

And while we’re at it, let’s acknowledge the absurdity. We like our ceremonies big and dramatic, don’t we? The more tears, the better. The more flag-folding, the more impressive the speech. It’s almost as if we think the spectacle will make up for the fact that we were too slow in the first place. Like we can somehow paper over the delay with more pomp. Newsflash: it doesn’t.

A Simple Solution: #SayItNow (Say It Now!)

Here’s a revolutionary idea: say thank you now. Don’t wait for the obituary, don’t wait for the ceremony. Just say it. Write a letter, make a call, walk up to a veteran and do what I always do: say “Thank you.” It’s not hard.

We can change this. We can stop being late to the party. We can start honoring the brave while they’re still here to enjoy it. That’s how we truly honor their sacrifice—not with speeches or flags, but with simple, heartfelt recognition that comes while they’re still with us. I wonder what saying thanks to a veteran does for their PTSD. Assuages it a little, if only for a day?

A Toast to the Living

So here’s to the living. Here’s to the ones who bled, who sacrificed, who gave up their tomorrows so we could have our todays. Let’s stop being so late to say thank you. Let’s give them the honor they deserve now, while they can still hear it, still feel it, still know that what they did matters.

Because at the end of the day, a "thank you" said today is worth more than all the ceremonies in the world tomorrow.

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