I miss you, Old Soldier. So so very much.

Rather challenging doing the cemetery runs without you this year. Remembering your stories. Today there was no one to ask about the family. You were that last link. Gone, now.

I think of your selfless service to others and our country on this day. Of your endless sharing of Italy and battles — the ones you only shared with Brother and I, after trying for years to get you to talk {Taurean stubborness, I tell you} … how terrified and sickened you were that your job was to throw grenades.

How, as you asked Brother and I, were you to know that that strong and fast baseball arm of yours would be what did you in and yet saved you? No, you couldn’t have known that.

I’ll never forget that look on your face and the tears in your eyes, as you confessed you wondered daily about how many you killed and why you lived.

That for months you were certain you would never make it home, never get married and never have children, let alone be here to tell these stories to your own grandchildren.

You led a charmed life, as you yourself would say so frequently.

I could feel you with us today. I felt you next to me. I could feel your comfort and your love. You’re not here, but you are here. You are everywhere and in everything to me.

And now I look to the future, to new things and people to be excited about, to share and to love. You’re not here for that either, yet you are.

This is the cycle of life. I guess I’m still trying to get used to this … this … circle.