The first time I saw my father cry was when he told me of the time that the PC boat, on which he was a crew member, dropped a depth charge onto an enemy submarine. He said that most of time they would drop their ordinance into the sea with no indication that a target had been hit, but in this instance the bodies of enemy sailors began rising to the surface . My dad told me that he felt as if he had personally contributed to their death.

I only heard him tell this story one time. Once was enough to illustrate the sorrow that remained for those fallen men...enemies yet now respected.

I am a veteran of the Viet Nam War era. I remain grateful that my duties in service did not lead me into direct battle, but the stigma of involvement in military operations continues to lurk in the shadow of memories.

I will always hold a place in my heart for all men and women who were thrust into battle. The devastation that they witnessed and endured is now reduced to our own recollection of the stories that they told us. We are now the ones left to speak for them.

God chose to spare your grandfather and thus provide an avenue for your existence. Although we never personally met, your grandpa impacted my life through the love that he shared with you. I vividly recall when you told me of his passing, how I felt that love. I hoped that someday I might share the same love with grandchildren of my own.

We're told that God works in mysterious ways. Your story once more proves the point. Today is a good time to memorialize the gifts we've been given and the lives that we're so fortunate to have.