It has been a while, and a lot has happened.
Your house sold, Father's Day came and went...and we survived.
I even found the ability to delete some of the email from you as I did a little "digital housekeeping."
There is a place in my heart that is still empty when I think of you. Sometimes I try to remember all the things you did that made me so angry, and sometimes I can...not all the time...and it gets hard to fill that empty place.
I have been out to your grave a couple of times, I don't stay very long. I remember going to the war memorials in Luxembourg when I was a child, and the view was similar to the grave scene in the movie, "Saving Private Ryan," when all you could see was headstones, as far as you were able to see.
It feels that way when I go to your grave.
So many headstones, so close together, so many Veterans. It's funny, it almost feels comfortable out there. These are the men and women I stood in line with to buy lunch, to go to the movies, to wait for you to get off work.
It is hard for civilians to understand sometimes...all we had was each other.
We were rarely in the same place on July 4th that we were at the previous Christmas. We almost never had the same friends from one school year to the next. All of life was ever changing, always disconnected, usually pretty lonely...all we had was each other, and we are less than when we started.
On this journey, we lost one, we lost you - our Chief, the Sergeant, our Guide in this wilderness of life.
We buried you where you fell, and you joined thousands honored in their service. No great statues, just a simple headstone, one that looks like the others. Not much different than the days of trying to pick you out of hundreds of other soldiers, all in uniform, all at attention, all proud to be serving.
So, here I am again...I was afraid you would "disappear" when the estate was settled, but you didn't, you are too much a part of who we are, why we are, and what we do.
It is amazing...you will never disappear.
On Father's Day, I saw my son with his sons, and I saw your legacy. When I see your other grandchildren and your great-grandchildren, your legacy continues.
When my son talks about going to school and working full time and raising a family (all at the same time), it is something you did, I did, and there is a feeling of pride, knowing this is tough...but we did it, and he will too.
This our legacy...we serve, some in uniform, some on their knees, some doing both.
This is our legacy...we will never disappear.
