It’s been a busy few days and my next post will have a (hopefully) exciting announcement. But, in this moment, on this Memorial Day, I want to dedicate one post to those for whom we celebrate this holiday.
I grew up knowing that I had two grandfathers who had served in wars (World War II and Korean). However, it wasn’t until my friends started signing up that things started to hit a little closer to home. Then, one day, about two years ago, the unthinkable happened.
I had just moved to a new state about two weeks earlier. One night I was out to dinner with some visiting family thinking that all was well. When I got home, I pulled out my phone, and realized that i had several missed calls and text messages from one of my old roommates. Something was obviously amiss.
I quickly called her back. I could tell that she had been crying. When I asked what had happened, her voice trembled and she told me that Scottie had been killed.
Scottie was the brother of our other roommate. A West Point graduate, he had served his country valiantly, and was just about to finish his final tour in Afghanistan. Literally weeks away from his return home – a return that would mark the end of his military career and his entrance into “civilian” life – he was defending ground troops when his helicopter was shot down. Neither he nor his co-pilot survived.
I couldn’t believe it. I literally sat there, stunned. Scottie had spent several of his leaves at our house visiting his sister, and we had all become friends. My heart broke him, for the future that was not to be. My heart broke for my roommate, who had lost her brother. And my heart broke for myself, and the loss of a friend.
This Memorial Day I remember Scottie, grateful for his service and for the service of so many others like him. Thank you. May you rest in peace.