My Grampa passed away a year ago, on Pearl Harbor day. Fitting for a vet, I thought… now it’s his day to me.
One thing that’s struck me in thinking of him this week… I was so lucky. I knew him, he was a rock for me, the ultimate man. Kind, intelligent, creative, completely in love with his wife and family, not afraid to be a little unconventional. I can unabashedly say I doted on him.
My husband was not so lucky. His grandfather is a certified war hero, medal of honor and a purple heart (posthumous), even a naval base named after him for his bravery. He led what was known to be a suicide mission to take out a japanese base in the Solomon Islands, which turned the tide of the battle for the pacific.
Another great man, for sure, but my husband never knew him.
It makes me realize how lucky I am. I love you Grampa…